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THE DAY THAT 
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1 



THE DAY THAT 
CHANGED THE WORLD 


BY 

HAROLD BEGBIE 

AUTHOR OF “ TWICE-BORN MEN," 

“ SOULS IN ACTION,” “ OTHER SHEEP,” Etc. 


The imagination of most men lags behind 
their knowledge* and it is often long before 
the real meaning dawns upon them of what 
they think they know* and in a sense do know. 

The Observer. 



HODDER & STOUGHTON 
NEW YORK 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



£ Z 5~f S' 3 

/i' 





CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 


PAGE 

A Personal Statement ..... 1 

CHAPTER II 

The First Intimation . . . . .9 


Godsmark 

CHAPTER III 

27 

Christmas Day . 

CHAPTER IV 

37 


CHAPTER V 

Thou Art Not the Man 51 


The Pilot 

CHAPTER VI 

64 


CHAPTER VII 

The Wind that Blew from the Little Cloud . 70 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER VIII 

PAGE 

In the Train to London . . . . .79 

CHAPTER IX 

The Wheel Begins to Turn . . . .89 

CHAPTER X 

A Repentant Landlord . . . . .99 

CHAPTER XI 

Vision of a Soul . . . . . .116 

CHAPTER XII 

Childbirth . . . . . . .127 

CHAPTER XIII 

The Two Hooligans ...... 137 

CHAPTER XIV 

The Open Heavens ...... 151 

CHAPTER XV 

The Church in Arms ..... 175 

CHAPTER XVI 

The Imperialist Thinks Aloud .... 189 


CONTENTS vii 

CHAPTER XVII 

PAGE 

Eternal Unity ...... 203 

CHAPTER XVIII 

The Woman’s Movement ..... 221 
CHAPTER XIX 

A Dinner Party ...... 233 

CHAPTER XX 

Two Mystics ....... 250 

CHAPTER XXI 


Was it a Miracle? 


279 


11 Master, which is the great commandment? 

Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. 
This is the first and great commandment. 

And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bour as thyself. 

On these two commandments hang all the law and the 
prophets.” 


CHAPTER I 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 

1% T ANY persons whose opinions are generally 
respected have urged me to write a narra- 
tive of those recent and miraculous events which 
have completely and so far as we can see perma- 
nently transformed civilisation. I should, therefore, 
feel myself guilty of a serious selfishness if I any 
longer withheld my knowledge from mankind. 
But I cannot bring myself to publish even anony- 
mously my experience of the Afflatus, as some 
now call it, without disowning as publicly and 
earnestly as possible any pretensions whatever to 
a particular spirituality. I would not have the 
world to think for a moment that at the time of the 
visitation I was either worthy in myself or by my 
manner of living had in any way fitted myself to 
be the recipient of a divine message. And to this 
end I would preface my narrative with the following 
brief but essential statement concerning my dis- 
position and my mode of existence. 


2 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


When I came down from Oxford in 1891, I was 
conscious only of a desire to hold myself aloof from 
all active work in the world and to spend my life 
in quiet and detached observation of my fellow- 
men. I was interested in life, but not in love with 
it. My father was anxious for me either to join the 
Diplomatic Service or to enter the House of Commons. 
His friendship with the leading men of both parties 
would have made entrance to either career a 
matter of but little difficulty, and indeed I was 
even urged by Mr. Gladstone on two rather memor- 
able occasions to become a politician. But a certain 
nervousness, a certain distaste for public appear- 
ances, rendered any idea of political life extremely 
obnoxious to my mind, and as for the Diplomatic 
Service I knew very well from my father’s experience 
that such an existence was more often than not 
extraordinarily dull and tedious. I did not, it is 
true, covet a life of action, but I shrank from a life 
of dossiers. 

My income, though a small one, enabled me to 
live with all the comfort I desired, and I made my 
head-quarters in Hertford Street, occupying a 
couple of rooms in a house owned and furnished 
by an ex-butler. I took my breakfast in these 
rooms, lunched as a rule at one of the three clubs 
I had joined on leaving Oxford, and either dined 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


3 


by myself in a restaurant or at the house of my 
father, who was then too ill to go out and who liked 
to have his children about him. I read a great deal 
at this period of my life, went very regularly to 
concerts, and fairly often to the theatre, saw some- 
thing of famous men, listened to the great preachers, 
and spent a considerable time in exploring — but 
only tentatively and superficially — the by-ways, 
the backwaters, and the depths of London. 

In a few years my acquaintance was so numerous 
that it was only with real difficulty that I could 
keep a few hours in the day for privacy. At that 
period people in London were the slaves of their 
engagement books, and I suppose no man of affairs 
was ever more engaged and mortgaged to other people 
than the idlers of society. For a year or two I 
enjoyed this almost incessant contact with dis- 
tinguished humanity, going so far as to keep a 
journal of my encounters, and contemplating quite 
seriously the ultimate publication of my memoirs. 
But gradually I lost interest in the turmoil of this 
fatiguing and feverish existence, and began, I 
must confess it, to entertain something very nearly 
approaching contempt for most of the men and 
women who passed in the public estimation for 
pioneers of civilisation. I grew more and more 
jealous of my privacy. I found a deeper and 


4 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


deepening pleasure in solitary explorations of 
London streets. I hunted out obscure restaurants. 
I loved to find places where I could sit alone and 
observe mankind. I became, in fact, a recluse of 
the modern order, a bachelor by temperament, and 
a hermit by experience. 

Every year I went abroad for a few months, and 
I took at this time a rather serious interest in the 
literature of foreign countries. I cultivated French 
literature quite earnestly, but abandoned it for the 
literature of Russia and Germany, with which I 
still maintain a fairly thorough acquaintance. I 
was all for reality, and no charm of style, not even 
the French of Anatole France, could entrance me 
with a story that bore no living relation to actual 
experience. At the same time I was disgusted by 
books whose reality was restricted to the mere 
lusts of the flesh. I was something of an agnostic 
in religion, but I cherished the greatest reverence 
for the principles of Christianity, and was intellectu- 
ally convinced of the existence of God. No book 
that was obviously sensual could capture my 
attention. I wanted reality, but I wanted it 
wholesome. 

In 1908, with the advent of a new Radical 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, I became a really 
serious student of politics. I woke up, as it were, 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


5 


from the long and pleasant dream-life of my former 
existence. I think I was one of the first men in 
England to perceive that the ancient play of party 
politics was at an end, and that the actual battle 
of Conservatism and Radicalism, involving the whole 
fabric of the social order, had at last begun. I 
remember making a remark of this kind to the most 
distinguished of Conservative statesmen, and his 
reply, which was light-hearted and bantering, 
showed that he anticipated no change whatever 
in the political life of England. “ If you knew the 
Treasury officials as well as I do,” he said, “ you 
would know that even Mr. George is mortal.” 

At the end of 1909 I was writing on political 
questions, and by 1912 I had established something 
of a reputation as a political critic. I went out 
more frequently into society. I enjoyed the friend- 
ship of several prominent politicians on both sides 
of the House of Commons, and was acquainted 
with nearly every man actively engaged in political 
life. For three years I was practically obsessed by 
politics. 

It was not, indeed, until the autumn of 1912 
that I questioned for a single moment the immense 
and pressing importance of politics. I would have 
the reader kindly to bear in mind that until the 
middle of October, 1912, 1 was one of the men 


6 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


who anticipated an overwhelming crisis in the 
political life of England, and who spent almost 
their entire life in seeking to avoid national calamity. 
We believed that revolution was at hand, not armed 
and desperate revolution, but revolution by Act oi 
Parliament. We believed that no precedent and 
no tradition would have the smallest authority with 
a democracy fired only by the materialistic deter- 
mination to increase their luxuries and broaden 
their welfare. Our plan of action was to check the 
storm and to secure breathing-time for ourselves, 
first by detaching the Labour Party from the Liberal 
Party, and then by forming a coalition of moderate 
Liberals and advanced Conservatives. Many of 
us were by no means opposed to some of the aspira- 
tions of the Labour Party, but we believed that the 
extreme Socialists in their reckless ignorance of 
international trade and international credit would 
bring the Empire, geographically and commercially, 
to irretrievable ruin, thus plunging the whole 
world into war. 

1 never once thought of religion during these 
years, at any rate not in relation to the political 
crisis. I never addressed a prayer to the Almighty, 
so far as I can remember, for divine guidance in our 
national existence. I went seldom to church, saw 
scarcely anything of the clergy, and read nothing 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


7 


either of a theological or ecclesiastical character. 
I was occupied solely, entirely, and exhaustively 
by politics, and though I made no effort to enter 
the House of Commons I was convinced that my 
life would henceforth be interwoven, however 
humbly and obscurely, with the political destinies 
of England. No man, except perhaps a victim of 
animalism, could have been less worthy of a divine 
revelation. 

This personal statement, I am told, would be 
incomplete without some positive affirmation touch- 
ing my moral life. I must content myself by merely 
saying that I have never felt the force of animal 
temptations, that I have been from my boyhood 
of a benevolent nature, that I have always been 
greatly moved by suffering and sorrow, that I have 
always hated violence, dogmatism, and self-asser- 
tion, that I have ever regarded the teaching of 
Christ with the very greatest admiration and 
reverence, that I have sought to make men and 
women with whom I came into close contact better 
and not worse for my friendship, and that I have 
felt — sometimes pressingly, and sometimes only 
subconsciously — both the seriousness of human 
life and the immense responsibility of the individual. 
I say all, I think, when I say that I have never been 
without the sense of God. I have not worshipped, 


8 


A PERSONAL STATEMENT 


I have not prayed, and I have not been active in 
religious life ; but I have always acknowledged in 
the solitude of my soul a humble and grateful 
dependence on the mercy of God. 

Finally, let me say that my mother, who died in 
1907, was deeply, earnestly, and practically religious. 
She was a constant visitor to a mission in Plaistow, 
worked incessantly for the Ragged School Union 
and Dr. Barnardo’s Homes, and was one of the 
first women in society to countenance and assist 
the Salvation Army. With all her wonderful common 
sense and brightness of disposition, she was some- 
thing of a mystic. But I never heard her speak 
either of vision or dream. 


CHAPTER II 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 
N Friday, the 18th of October, 1912, St. 



Luke’s Day, I received a telegram at break- 
fast-time from an acquaintance whose name had 
better not be mentioned, asking me to dine with 
him that evening. This telegram was followed an 
hour later by an express letter from the same man, 
telling me whom I should meet at dinner and assur- 
ing me, with a degree of emphasis which seemed 
to me rather excitable, that a matter of the most 
urgent and of the gravest possible character would 
be discussed at this meeting. 

The names mentioned in this letter were those 
of rather second-rate politicians. One of the men, 
for instance, was a particularly reckless representa- 
tive of the Ulster Orange Party. The writer, how- 
ever, was a man of marked originality and of no 
small influence in the world of political journalism. 
I knew him slightly, and although I disliked the 
violence of his writings and regarded him as a 
very dangerous person in a really serious crisis, I 


10 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


could not hide from myself that he was far more 
likely than myself to emerge and play a governing 
part in the whirlwind of a revolution. For some 
time I debated whether to accept or to refuse the 
invitation, but finally I decided to accept it, if only 
to discover what course of action the daring spirits 
of Conservatism were now contemplating. 

I shall mention the plot disclosed to me at this 
dinner-party in order to show how wild and dis- 
organised were the wits of men on the very eve of 
the great change. I have obtained permission from 
its author to make this disclosure, and I believe 
that it will be of serious interest to the future 
historian. Nothing, I think, could more vividly 
demonstrate the confusion of the times and the 
hopeless condition of party politics. 

The proposition solemnly made to me by the 
gentlemen at this dinner-party was nothing less 
than a proposition for a coup d'etat. I was asked 
to agree that the resources of Parliamentary opposi- 
tion were exhausted, that against the advancing 
legions of illiterate democracy the single regiment 
of culture was powerless, that history afforded no 
illustration of a victory by logic and reason over 
a revolution on the march. Washed down by a 
little indifferent claret these postulates were allowed 
to pass, and then, with whisky and tobacco, and the 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


11 


absence of servants from the room, came the theory 
of the coup d'etat. 

“ Force,” said our host, “ is the only weapon we 
can now employ. But we ourselves cannot summon 
it to our aid. We must use Force, but we do not 
possess Force. What then can we do ? Our defence 
is the Throne. The Throne must act. And the 
Throne, far from being, as so many foolish people 
suppose, a part of the Constitution without vital 
energy, or without even the ability to act decisively, 
in fact possesses the one overwhelming weapon of 
offence. The King of this country commands the 
Navy. He has but to give the order for the Royal 
Navy to blockade England, to hold up, that is to 
say, our food supplies for a week — he has but to 
do this, to bring the country to its knees. And such 
an action, remember, would be welcomed by at 
least one half of the community. Do not let us 
forget that. One half of the population is sick of 
revolution by Act of Parliament, is sick of closure 
and gag in the House of Commons, is sick of democ- 
racy, is sick of all these Radical experiments which 
unsettle and paralyse national existence. Liberty 
has lost its spell. Parliament is ridiculed and hated. 
One half of the country would hail with rejoicing 
and delight any action by the King which promised 
a restoration of order and common sense. The 


12 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


Army would rally to his side. The House of Com- 
mons would become a bear garden. Ministers 
might issue orders from their offices, but no one 
would be found to obey them. In a week democracy 
would be howling on its knees for bread. And then 
— revolution ! Yes, a real revolution. Instead of 
government by cabinet, and county council, and 
board of guardians, and all the rest of this pre- 
posterous, unwieldy, unscientific, and utterly 
inefficient apparatus of democracy, we should have 
a government of aristocracy — such a government 
as the British Government in India. Governors 
and Commissioners would succeed local bodies. 
We should have committees of one. Things would 
be done swiftly and efficiently. The King’s Govern- 
ment, like the Kaiser’s Government, would be a 
real Government, yes, and immovable. Men like 
Kitchener would direct our land forces with no 
restriction on their decisions except the King’s veto* 
Men like Willcocks, and Lugard, and John Hewett 
would organise our industries and develop our 
resources. Such prosperity would come to us from 
this efficiency, that men would soon look back on 
the chaos and confusion of the democratic period 
with wonder and amusement. All that we need 
is courage and fortitude for the first step. I am 
convinced, yes, on my soul I am convinced, that 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


13 


a declaration by the King at this moment that for 
the safety of the Empire and the welfare of his do- 
minions, he intended to dissolve Parliament sine 
die, would be greeted with acclamation. There 
would be a few scuffles with military and police, 
but nothing more. The mob is unarmed. The 
wealth of the country is against it. Socialists 
might rave, but there are prisons enough for all 
the firebrands of Tower Hill. A stoppage of food 
supplies, and the appearance of sailors in the streets 
and ships at the mouth of every river, would settle 
the business in a week. Socialism would die out, 
or it would be crushed out of existence. All that 
we have to do is to take the country utterly by 
surprise. We must act — and suddenly, swiftly, 
completely.” 

One of the men present, evidently disappointed 
by the way in which I received this amazing sugges- 
tion, began to hold forth with a distracting violence 
of tone and gesture on the alternative destiny of 
England. The House of Lords, he said, was de- 
stroyed. The Throne would follow. Land was now 
definitely to be nationalised. Capital was leaving 
the country. It meant mob law in England, a 
destruction of all culture and refinement, a crowning 
of materialism, disruption of the Empire, and 
Armageddon. “ It means anarchy and ruin,” he 


14 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


vociferated, “ anarchy and ruin for the working- 
classes as well as for us. India will be seized by a 
foreign power, and with the loss of India England’s 
trade perishes at once and for ever. These Radicals 
are starving the Navy ; the point is almost reached 
when Russia, Japan, and Germany will make a 
rush for India. And the country that holds India 
rules the world. Unless we act at once the Empire 
will fall with a crash, and we shall all be buried — 
upper-classes, middle-classes, and lower-classes — in 
its ruins. The Radicals, ignorant of world condi- 
tions, and reckless in their home market, think 
that they can go on raising wages, lessening hours 
of employment, penalising capital, and exposing 
industry to the free competition of Asiatic and 
sweating nations, without ruin to themselves. It 
is the maddest gospel ever preached out of Bedlam. 
And it is not merely preached ; it is actually in 
action. And while it is in action, we do nothing but 
talk ! We argue in the House of Commons. We 
plead in our newspapers. We abuse and ridicule 
our opponents at meetings of the Primrose League ! 
And we think we are fine fellows. No, by Heaven, 
we are fools, cowards, madmen. Unless we act, 
all is lost. And unless we act at once, only the 
remnant of our glory can be saved. We must go to 
the King.” 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


15 


I need not give an extended account of the con- 
versation that followed. It was now excited and 
vociferous, now depressed and cynical, now pleading 
and pathetic. I withdrew as soon as possible, 
saying that whatever might be the wisdom of the 
proposition it was quite certain that the King would 
never act in the manner suggested. Everything, 
of course, turned on the King ; and I expressed 
my absolute conviction that he would refuse to 
countenance for a single moment a step so entirely 
revolutionary and false to his oaths. In brief, I 
refused to be the agent of these plotters, and begged 
them to abandon all idea of any coup d'etat whatso- 
ever until after the next General Election. 

On my way back to Hertford Street, while I was 
reflecting on the danger which menaced the social 
organism in the violence of such Conservatives 
as those I had just left — a violence more dangerous 
than the violence of demagogic oratory — my eyes, in 
looking up from the ground as I crossed Trafalgar 
Square, were strangely and suddenly attracted by 
the face of a child. I can recall distinctly the very 
marked and instant effect produced upon my mind 
by this encounter of the eyes. Everything about 
which I had been thinking so seriously and care- 
fully evaporated from my consciousness. I ceased 
thinking abruptly and completely. I seemed to 


16 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


begin at that moment not so much a new train of 
thought as a new manner of feeling. I remember 
that my heart felt as if it had been pierced. An 
excess of deep and extraordinary compassion over- 
whelmed me. I was conscious of a really hungering 
desire to shelter and protect this child whose eyes 
encountered mine. Nothing in the whole world 
appeared to me then of such infinite importance as 
the welfare of this child. 

It was carried by a very tired and ragged woman, 
its head just above her left shoulder, its face looking 
backward. Behind the woman was a boy of five 
or six years of age, whose broken boots dragged as 
he walked, and whose left hand clutched at his 
mother’s skirts. Somewhat in advance of the boy 
marched the father, his hands at the lapels of his 
coat, his head raised, his shoulders squared, the 
whole gait and carriage of the man soldier-like and 
proud, but vehement and exasperated. 

The infant’s face was white as death, and the 
expression of the eyes was one of mute suffering. 
They were large dark eyes, but without lustre, 
without animation. They did not seem to see me, 
though they were fixed upon me. The jolting of the 
woman’s paces produced no change in the fixity 
of these eyes, which were set in suffering, which 
were frozen in acquiescence. I walked behind the 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


17 


group and studied the little pale thin face with that 
sentiment of unusual and extraordinary pity which 
I have attempted to describe. I felt that it was in 
my destiny to follow these poor people. I felt that 
in some way my fate was bound up with the fate 
of this child. 

They went up St. Martin’s Street towards Leicester 
Square. It was just a few minutes after eleven 
o’clock. Groups of people stood outside the still 
lighted windows of stationers’ and chemists’ shops. 
From the light of these windows I saw that the 
family I followed was hideously and appallingly 
poor. The clothes were indescribably horrible. The 
glimpses I got every now and then of the profiles of 
father and mother showed me that they must be 
actually starving. When they passed on into the 
darkness between the lamps they seemed to become 
a part of the night, a part of the city ; but in the 
light they seemed incongruous, inhuman, quite 
positively dreadful. 

As I followed them, still looking at the child’s 
eyes, and as it were drawn by that pitiful stupor, 
I remember that a line from Dostoevsky’s novel of 
the Karamazovs came suddenly into my mind, 
the cry of Mitya in his dream, “ Why is the babe 
poor ? . . . Why are they so dark from black 
misery ? Why don’t they feed the babe ? ” 


c 


18 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


At the recognition of these words as a quotation 
my feeling of compassion became more rational. 
Something of my old nature reasserted itself. I 
began to speculate. It seemed to me a very mon- 
strous thing that in spite of laws and charities, in 
spite of all the immense wealth and unceasing 
labour of London, this poor child should be out in 
the streets at night, not only homeless, but visibly 
and uncomplainingly dying of starvation. I thought 
about industrialism, and the amazing pass to which 
it had brought human life. I thought of agitators 
and demagogues, of the Primrose League and the 
plotters I had just left, I thought of the revolution 
we were all expecting and the horror of universal 
war that might so naturally follow an upheaval in 
England — and I wondered whether something 
might not have been done long ago, something 
which was now too late to do, something which 
might have saved this child from perishing of want 
at the very centre of London. 

“ Why is the babe poor ? ” I asked myself again 
and again. And I felt that there was an answer 
to the question, but that I did not know it. I 
was surprised, calmly and rationally, that I had 
no answer to the question. It seemed to me 
that everyone ought to know it. It seemed to 
me that the Almighty was Himself asking England 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


19 


that question, “ Why is the babe poor ? ” — and 
that England could not answer. 

The family in front of me suddenly checked. 
I stopped too. The man, walking on ahead, had 
paused at the entrance to a music-hall. He stood, 
looking into the lighted vestibule, his hands still 
grasping at the lapels of his coat. His wife drew 
alongside, looked for a moment into the bright 
and gorgeous interior, and then moved on, the 
little boy dragging at her skirt. But the man 
remained there, all his shabbiness visible in the 
flood of light. 

I observed the stretched tightness of his skin 
over the cheek-bones, the grim expression of the 
mouth under its moustache, the hollows of his 
cheeks, the burning hatred of his dark eyes, and 
the leanness of the hands grasping his coat lapels. 
He stood looking into the luxury and gilded 
ostentation of the music-hall with defiance and 
challenge, as though he desired people to see his 
rags, not at all as if he anticipated a dole. I was 
very much struck by a certain grandeur in the 
man’s attitude, and watched him with interest. 

A motor-car drew up beside the pavement. From 
the steps of the music-hall came quickly and with 
obsequious alacrity a tall janitor in elaborate 
livery. He was followed by an old man and a young 


20 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


woman. The old man wore his opera hat tilted 
towards his eyes, and carried a light-coloured 
overcoat over his arm. His face was red, shining, 
and stupidly hilarious. He was dressed like a boy, 
with white waistcoat, a fanciful shirt, pointed-toed 
shoes of patent leather, and white gloves. There was 
a flower in his button-hole. The girl was thinly 
clad in pale pink, and had yellow hair. She wore 
a very large black hat decorated with black and 
white feathers. As she came down the scarlet 
carpet and across the pavement she lifted her skirt 
almost to her knees, disclosing pale stockings and 
gilt shoes. Those trivial and vulgar shoes seemed 
to me as I stood there quite devilish and malicious. 

The janitor on his way to the motor-car ran 
against the starving man standing upright and 
defiant with his hands clutching the lapels of his 
shabby coat. The janitor pushed him and said, 
“ Get out of the way, you ! ” The old gentleman 
at that moment, putting his cigar in his mouth, 
began feeling in his pocket for a tip. I heard the 
jingle of coins. The girl glanced at the beggar for 
a moment, and then with a little nod and smile to 
the janitor entered the motor-car. As her com- 
panion, after examining a handful of coins with a 
drunken amusement, was giving his tip to the 
saluting janitor, the beggar, who had recovered 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


21 


his balance, muttered something that I could not 
hear, angrily and bitterly. His wife, looking round, 
called him ; but he stood where he was, his eyes 
flashing. 

The janitor, pocketing his tip, measured the 
beggar with his eyes, and said to him, “ Take your 
fleas out of this, or I’ll put you away, quick.” 

The man walked towards him. “I’d sooner 
starve than do your dirty job,” he said threaten- 
ingly. Then he shouted something at the janitor 
which I will not write. 

His wife called him, loudly, eagerly. 

The janitor beckoned with his head to a couple 
of policemen standing with their backs to the 
railings and the printed bills a few yards away. 
Before they could approach, the beggar suddenly 
threw himself upon the janitor. I caught sight, 
as his arms whirled, of the South African ribbon 
on his waistcoat. His face was terrible in its 
fury. . . . 

The woman, crying bitterly, followed him to 
the police-station. For some yards I marched 
with the crowd behind her. The babe’s eyes were 
again fixed upon mine. The dazed stupor was un- 
changed. The look of suffering acquiescence was 
unaltered. I looked at the little face on the shoulder 
of the mother and in the midst of the laughing 


22 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


crowd, till I could bear it no longer. I drew along- 
side of the poor mother, slipped a couple of sove- 
reigns into the hand that held the babe, and escaped 
to the kerb as quickly as possible. Then I hailed a 
cab and drove home, feeling guilty of something 
which tortured and reproached me. 

“ Why is the babe poor ? ” I asked myself, and 
each time I asked that question it seemed more 
and more true to me that I knew why it was poor, 
and that I dare not say. 

It was some time before I could sleep, and when 
I did sleep it was for less than an hour. I woke 
suddenly from a dream. And this dream was the 
first intimation I received, I do not even now like 
to call it an inspiration, of the wonder that was 
coming to the world. 

My mother often told me that during a period 
of my childhood I obstinately refused to go to bed 
until I had been carried and placed in the window- 
sill of our day nursery. There I used to sit, wrapped 
in a blanket, my hands holding on to the iron bars, 
my feet dangling outside, my eyes fixed upon the 
sunset. I used to sit there, she told me, some- 
times crooning softly to myself, but more often 
than not in perfect silence and without any move- 
ment of my body, simply staring into the western 
heavens until I dropped asleep. Then the nurses 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


23 


would carry me into the night nursery, and I would 
sleep soundly and sweetly till daybreak, when I 
very often woke with a sudden start and began 
calling out immediately in some excitable language 
which was unintelligible to everybody. 

I have attributed to this habit of mine in child- 
hood the dreams which repeated themselves with 
a fair degree of constancy throughout my early 
manhood — dreams hardly to be called dreams, but 
rather visions of light. Again and again as a boy 
and as a young man I was conscious in sleep of the 
most marvellous and shining brightness. I seemed 
to be standing in the midst of a universe of warm, 
dazzling, and primrose glory — a glory which was 
without form and without inhabitants, a glory 
which vibrated but did not blind, which was so 
beautiful and entrancing that it was a veritable 
ecstasy to lose one’s sense of identity in its suffusing 
joy. Nothing ever happened in these visions. I 
was either simply aware of the transcendent 
light or felt myself sinking into its fathomless 
beauty. 

I used to think that the lights of sunsets into which 
I gazed as a child had impressed themselves upon 
my unthinking brain, and that these beautiful 
impressions recurred in sleep with all the rapture 
of a drowning consciousness. Even now this may 


24 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


be a partial explanation of the visions which came 
to me at the end of 1912, but, I am persuaded, only 
a partial explanation. 

On the night of which I have been writing I saw 
for the first time for many years the vision of my 
youth. But there was a difference. The light was 
more burning and sublime. Forms, dimly discernible, 
floated in the midst of it. And as I gazed into the 
infinite depths of this fathomless but tenanted 
glory, slowly and very distinctly I saw the words 
appear high above me and at enormous distance, 
NEXT YEAR. 

I had no notion what they signified. I simply 
saw them. I perceived without wonder or interest 
that spirit-forms were swimming in constant move- 
ment through this golden ether ; and without 
wonder or interest I perceived the luminous 
words NEXT YEAR burning in the midst of 
the glory. 

And then, suddenly, I woke from sleep. 

It was two o’clock. I switched on the light, 
looked about me for a moment, and then turned 
on my side, and slept again. I dreamed precisely 
the same dream, and woke at 2.50. I saw that I 
had left the light burning, and turned it off, and 
slept immediately. At 3.25 I woke from the same 
dream. 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


25 


So great was the impression made upon me by 
these three visions that I noted the occurrence in 
my book of engagements. I woke conscious that 
a strange and significant thing had happened to 
me. I felt sure that the dream had a meaning, an 
interpretation. I was not elated ; on the contrary, 
I was depressed. I did not anticipate blessing ; 
I expected calamity. My impression was that 
next year something would befall England of a 
dreadful and overwhelming character ; I felt that 
in some strange and quite inexplicable manner I 
had been warned of national disaster ; nothing could 
dislodge from my mind the sensation of a mysterious 
communication and the conviction of certain 
calamity ahead. 

For this reason I made the entry mentioned above 
in my book of engagements — I kept no diary — 
and under the note of my three visions I wrote, 
“ Navy : Coup d'etat ” — to remind me of the dinner- 
party. 

An hour later, as I sat at breakfast, the face of the 
starving child looking over its mother’s shoulder 
suddenly and most vividly recurred to my mind. 
I sat back in my chair, dazed and startled. Until 
that moment I had forgotten the incident. My 
vision had drawn it out of my thoughts. An 
overwhelming impulse now visited my mind. I 


26 


THE FIRST INTIMATION 


got up from the table, finished my dressing, and 
rang for a cab. Before ten o’clock I was in the 
police-station and had spoken to the mother as 
well as to the inspector of the police and to the 
court missionary. 


CHAPTER III 


GODSMARK 

'll /TY appeal to the magistrate was of some avail. 
JXL The sentence, he said, would have been 
severer but for my disinterested account of the 
provocation. However, the man had committed 
a serious assault and had resisted the police. He 
must go to prison. 

I feel quite certain that some power was acting 
through me and by me that morning. I went to the 
police-station on an irresistible impulse ; I spoke 
from the witness-box of the police-court with an 
energy and an earnestness which were foreign to 
my nature. I was not in the smallest degree self- 
conscious or distressed ; I felt throughout the whole 
proceedings and during the rest of the morning a 
sensation of what I may call subdued exaltation. I 
was calm, but I was happy. I was earnest, but 
I was peaceful. The sentence on the poor man did 
not distress me. I was satisfied. It seemed to me 
that everything was happening because it had to 
27 


28 


GODSMARK 


happen, and in precisely that manner. I was never 
for one moment distressed, disappointed, or nervous. 

When the proceedings were over, I arranged with 
the court missionary to make myself responsible for 
the mother and children. I took them straight 

from the police-court to my friend Dr. in 

Grosvenor Street. He was most kind and earnest 
about the infant, and made no remark at all con- 
cerning so strange an invasion of his consulting-room. 
He told me that I must get a trained nurse im- 
mediately, and that the best thing I could do for the 
family was to move them at once into the country. 

That afternoon I was going into Dorsetshire 
for the week-end to stay with my cousin Arthur 
Rempstone. I telegraphed, asking him if he could 
provide a furnished cottage for some poor people 
I wanted to bring down with me. His reply did 
not reach me before I started, but I carried the 
family with me, an excellent nurse in charge of the 
baby. 

Arthur Rempstone met me at the station. He 
told me that he had arranged with an old quarryman 
on his estate to house and board the family. A 
carriage was waiting for them, and we saw them off 
before entering the motor-car. And not until that 
moment did Rempstone exclaim at my action. He 
chaffed me good-naturedly for a few minutes, 


GODSMARK 


29 


rallying me on the new character I had so suddenly 
assumed, and asking for explanations ; but on 
hearing my story, which I told him only in brief, he 
expressed the very greatest sympathy for the old 
soldier in prison, and said that he was really only too 
pleased to be of service in such a matter. He was 
quite charming and kind and understanding. 

The house-party was political. After dinner we 
sat up till one o’clock discussing the crisis. There 
was no abuse of the Radicals, no vehemence of any 
kind, but the company was convinced of crisis and 
anticipated a downfall of British power ; they 
appeared to me resigned to a ruin of everything, a 
complete and total ruin which they felt to be 
inescapable and inavertible. It was the gloomy and 
sorrowful discussion of thoughtful men conscious 
of doom. Every suggestion of action was rejected 
rather than criticised. And every attempt at cheer- 
fulness was stillborn. 

On the following morning Arthur Rempstone took 
me after breakfast to see my beggars, as he called 
the family I had adopted. As we walked through the 
park and climbed the path to the downs, he spoke 
to me of the old man with whom my beggars were 
lodged. 

“ He is,” said Rempstone, “one of the characters 
about these parts. His very name is extraordinary, 


30 


GODSMARK 


for it is Godsmark — evidently a creation of the 
Puritans. They call him hereabouts the Hermit. 
Nobody ever speaks of him by his name. It is 
always ‘ the Hermit ’ — ‘ I saw the Hermit about it,’ 
or ‘ Up by the Hermit’s cottage.’ He is a man of 
sixty, a widower, and all his children are married 
and gone. He lives entirely by himself. But — don’t 
be anxious ; his cottage is not the pigsty you might 
imagine. The old fellow is wonderfully clean and 
particular. He regards housework as well as every 
other thing in life as a part of religion. He said to 
me once, ‘ When I wash, master, I think of my 
black sins and long for heart-cleanness ; when I bake 
bread I think of the soul I’m making for God’s 
judgment ; and when I clean and tidy up a bit, I 
think of the little faults in my character which want 
the winnowing-fan of the Son of Man.’ He used to 
preach at one time, and was rather noisy over it ; but 
he’s quiet now — altogether subdued and gentle. I 
don’t often see him, but when I do he interests me 
a great deal. He works his quarry almost entirely 
by himself, and sees scarcely anybody except the 
carters who come to fetch away his stone. He keeps 
a few fowls and a donkey and a couple of goats. 
He told me once that he had learnt more from birds 
and animals than from men and women ; and he 
added, ‘ Ever notice, master, how the Son of Man 


GODSMARK 


31 


took notice of them things ? ’ Altogether, he is a nice, 
good old fellow, and you may be quite sure your 
beggars will be happy with him if they don’t mind 
solitude.” 

The cottage stood in a hollow of the hills, with a 
well-kept garden surrounding it, and with the 
quarry just out of sight over the brow of the hill. 
The rooms were simply furnished, but adequately 
and neatly. The place was clean. The nurse, who 
was a lady, expressed herself very well pleased with 
the arrangements, and spoke even enthusiastically 
of the scenery and the air. She seemed to enter into 
the idea of this existence with the spirit of a girl 
embarking for the first time on the experience of 
camping out. 

Godsmark was a picturesque figure. His head 
seemed to me one of the finest-shaped I had ever cast 
eyes upon — so solid, so dignified, so dense in the 
bone, with the grey hair thick and stubborn, like a 
mane. His infinitely wrinkled skin was burned by 
sun and wind ; the blue eyes, socketed in large 
sweeping curves of bone, were grave and intelligent 
and gentle ; the nose was big and shapely, with a 
firm arch ; the lower part of his face was covered 
with moustache and beard. He was a man two 
inches short of six feet, heavily built, with huge 
rounded shoulders and clumsy slow-moving limbs. 


32 


GODSMARK 


His voice was deep and sonorous. He spoke very 
quietly and without haste. 

We followed him up the rough path at the back 
of his garden to the quarry just above the hollow. 
The place was strewn with broken stones. The 
road descending over the downs was cut into deep 
ruts by the carts. The entrance to the quarry was 
like a cave, with brambles and grasses and ferns 
and wild flowers hanging over the yellow rock under 
which it descended into dampness and dark. On the 
high ground just above this entrance was the shed 
where he shaped the stone that he quarried — an 
open shed built and roofed entirely of stone, with 
no mortar of any kind. The floor was thick with 
white dust, and all the tools and implements of the 
old fellow’s craft were almost white with this fine 
powder. There was a text on the wall. 

The view from this eminence was wide and 
exhilarating. The rough gorse-covered, wind-swept 
moors of the quarry-land, with a few clumps of fir 
trees and broken jungles of thorn rising out of thick 
bracken, sloped slowly and unevenly to the habita- 
tions of men in the valley. And far across the 
kempt and umbrageous valley, far beyond the grey 
cottages and grey farm-houses and grey church 
and grey road winding through orchards and gardens 
to the sea, rose the majestic downs of Dorset on 


GODSMARK 


33 


the other side, green and smooth to their summits, 
soft and beautiful in the morning air, calm and 
consolatory in their everlasting strength. 

As we stood there Arthur Rempstone said to the 
quarryman, “ Well, what do you think up here of the 
political hubbub ? — What do you think of all the 
excitement over in London ? ” 

The old man turned his face and looked at me. 
For a moment we surveyed each other in silence, 
establishing — so it appeared to me — an under- 
standing of soul which no language could have 
brought about. The old man seemed not to look 
into my eyes, but into my soul ; and, for my part, I 
seemed to see some extraordinary beauty and some 
very intimate reality behind the eyes and within the 
mind of the patriarch. 

“ I think, master,” he said, looking slowly away 
and resting his eyes on the opposite hills, “ that 
something’s coming along by and by that will alter 
pretty near everything that now is. But I don’t 
think it will be anything that people is expecting. 
I think it will be something different.” 

Rempstone laughed. “ A war, eh ? Well, I’m 
not sure that a war wouldn’t be the best thing for 
England — not at all sure.” 

The old man looked at me again. 

“ You’re not very keen, then,” Rempstone con- 

D 


34 


GODSMARK 


tinued, “ about politics ? ” He began to move 
away, opening his cigarette-case as he went. 

The quarry man, lowering his eyes, answered : 
“ No, master, I’m no politician. I keep out of all 
that. And I can’t understand any intelligent man 
being interested in such things.” 

Rempstone burst out laughing, and turned 
winking to me as he struck a match for his cigarette. 

The old fellow continued : “ There are all kinds 
of government in the world, master. There’s 
monarchies and republics, and constitutional mon- 
archies and despotisms — all sorts : and not one of 
the peoples living under them governments is any 
different from the others. They’re all unhappy. 
There’s poverty in France as well as in Spain. 
There’s misery and wretchedness in the United 
States of America as well as in Russia. You may get 
rid of Kings, you may set up Parliaments, you may 
talk of equality and liberty and brotherhood, but it 
all comes back to the same thing in the end. One 
man poor, another rich ; one man happy, another 
miserable ; one man good, another bad — that’s 
what you’ll find under every government, and all 
the laws of our politicians, do what they like, won’t 
alter things. So why should I bother about Radical 
and Tory ? Why should I concern myself with their 
quarrels ? I can see for myself that it means 


GODSMARK 


35 


nothing, and makes no difference to anybody at all. 
And, besides, I know — Fm very sure I know — the 
only thing that can do any good. If I know that, 
and know it I do, master, why should I bother my 
head about law-changing ? ” 

Rempstone said to him : “ Look here, my friend, 
you may philosophise up here very comfortably 
just now, but how would you regard politics if a 
shell from a German cruiser knocked your quarry 
to smithereens and another scattered your cottage, 
your hens, your goats, and your potatoes to the four 
winds ? That is what the Radicals will bring us to, 
sooner or later — mark my words.” 

The old man looked down on the stones at his 
feet. “ Master,” he said, “ what a rare blundering 
mess of things these here politics have made, when 
such things are possible — slaughter and murder 
and all ! How can you trust them, master, if they 
can’t do no better for you than that ? ” 

Rempstone glanced at me as if to say : “ Did 

you ever hear such a fellow in your life ! ” But it 
seemed to me that the man saw deeper into the soul 
of things than Rempstone. I was greatly, perhaps 
strangely, attracted by him. As we moved away I 
was on the point of asking him what new thing he 
expected — the thing that was to alter life and that 
no man was anticipating ; but with the question 


36 


GODSMARK 


on my tongue, something inward checked me. I 
felt that I would ask him that question when we 
were alone. 

On our way home, Rempstone said to me : 

‘ There’s some truth in what the Hermit told us. 
After all, France has solved none of the real problems. 
And is America a country at unity with itself ? I 
wonder if all the law-changing in the world, as he 
calls it, makes any real difference — any real funda- 
mental difference.” 

“ That’s Conservatism ! ” I said. 

He burst out laughing. “So it is, by George ! 
Yes, all the bother comes from these confounded 
Radicals, who want to alter everything.” 

I did not remind him that Godsmark had foretold 
the altering of everything. I began to doubt 
politics from that moment. I began to wonder, 
without any relation to politics, how everything 
could be changed. 


CHAPTER IV 


CHRISTMAS DAY 

T) Y the kindness of a friend I was able to find em- 
ployment for the old soldier when he came out 
of prison. But this work was in a London warehouse, 
and the question arose whether the wife and family 
should continue in the country or return to the city. 
I was conscious of rather unworthy satisfaction in 
my settlement of this difficulty. 

I persuaded the mother to leave her baby with 
the nurse in Dorsetshire, while she herself, together 
with the little boy, joined her husband in London. 
My satisfaction at this arrangement arose from a 
desire in my heart to isolate the child from the 
family, to possess it, as it were, for myself, to have 
the supreme power of directing its destinies. The 
father was a good enough fellow, but sullen, bitter, 
and with no very satisfactory record in the matter of 
drink. The mother, whatever she may have been 
at the beginning of her tragic married life, was of a 
depressing and complaining nature. The little boy 
37 


38 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


was not attractive. I confess that I desired to get 
rid of the family, and that I exercised some little 
cunning in achieving my end. I set the man up in a 
decent house, provided the family with a sufficient 
wardrobe, and possessed myself of the babe. It 
became the greatest possession of my life. 

Every week I went down to Dorsetshire, not 
staying with the Rempstones, who had moved to 
London, but occupying a room in a seaside hotel 
which was not more than two miles from the 
quarries. I liked the nurse, I was interested in the 
Hermit, and — why I cannot tell — I adored the babe. 

The child was six months of age, but thin, peaky, 
and torpid. He never smiled. He never kicked or 
waved his arms. He did nothing, in fact, that 
attracts and beguiles grown-up people in babies. 
Yet the nurse worshipped him. Godsmark was 
never so happy as when he held the little weakling 
in his arms, and, as I have said, I adored the child. 
There was something in the very listlessness of the 
babe that exercised a spell over one’s affections. 
I don’t think I wanted him to smile or talk. It 
was enough for me to observe the small, pale face, 
to look into the large, sorrowful eyes, to watch the 
shadows of tired perplexity which so often passed 
across his brow. The nurse, holding him to her 
face, so that the little head rested and pressed against 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


39 


her cheek, would sometimes say with caressing 
tenderness, half turning to kiss him, “ You’ll soon 
be a big, strong boy, won’t you, and run about, and 
play with the little chickens, and watch the butter- 
flies, and shout at the goats ? ” And on these occa- 
sions I was conscious of no pleasurable anticipation in 
the prospect of the boy’s health and joy. I suppose 
I wanted him to get well, but certainly I never 
wanted him to be strong, vigorous, and cheerful. 
Something in his utter helplessness seemed to create 
a mother in my heart. 

My visits to the cottage on the moors never passed 
without long and earnest conversations with the 
Hermit. The nurse, who was a religious woman, 
spoke to me with real reverence of the old man’s 
spiritual life. “ He has taught me,” she said once, 
“ more than I ever knew before ; he is like one of 
the old saints — his faith really is the faith of a child.” 
In something of the same way the Hermit acted 
upon my mind. He did not give me faith, he 
cleared away none of my intellectual difficulties ; 
but he detached me more and more from my 
interest in politics, he interested me more and 
more in religious speculations. I acknowledged in 
my soul that the faith of this old man, childlike or 
childish, was a very beautiful and dignifying posses- 
sion of the mind. 


40 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


I spent Christmas in Dorsetshire, and on Christ- 
mas Day I was early at the cottage with presents for 
my godson, as we called the babe, and for his kind 
friends the nurse and the Hermit. An hour after 
my arrival the nurse departed for church, and the 
Hermit took charge of the child. It was a bright, 
calm day, and wrapped in a thick shawl the babe 
was allowed to sit outside in the garden. Godsmark 
held the child in his arms, seated in an old-fashioned 
Windsor chair, his back to the house, his face 
towards the valley and the downs. 

We began to talk. 

“ Near on two thousand year agone,” he said 
presently, nodding his head and speaking very 
slowly and quietly, “ a babe was born to a poor 
woman, and laid in a manger. There were kings 
in they times, and governors and lawmakers, and 
priests, and councils, just as there be now. Aye, 
there wasn’t much difference between then and 
now as regards the laws and their makers. I reckon 
we have as many problems now as them people had 
near on two thousand year agone. From all I hear 
and from all I see, our problems are, maybe, a bit 
worse than what they had to deal with. And while 
all the kings of the earth, and the governors and 
princes, and rulers and lords, and councils and 
peoples were busy with their laws and their taxes, 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


41 


that little babe lay in the manger — the least of all 
created things, the weakest and most helpless of all 
things living. And his mother’s tears fell on his 
face. And his father pitied him for lying there in 
the wooden trough. And I suppose there was 
singing and laughter in the tavern near by.” 

He turned his face towards me. “ Sir,” he said, 
“ when I think what that babe did — without chang- 
ing one law and without drawing a sword — it makes 
light in my soul. It makes everything clear and 
bright. I look at this little babe, helpless and feeble 
in my arms, and I say to myself, ‘ Perhaps you know 
more and can do more for the whole world than all 
the Kings and Parliaments.’ I’m always ready to 
bow myself before a child. They’re so near to God 
for one thing. And maybe they are here to reveal 
Him. For, a little child shall lead them. That’s a 
true saying. The great men pile up a lot of con- 
fusion, and raise all the dust of trouble, but it’s the 
little child that gives peace to the heart and rest to 
the soul. Whether this little one here lives or dies, 
he may even now be changing the world. I’m better 
for him, the lady nurse is better for him, and perhaps 
you too are better for him.” 

“ Well,” I replied, “ I am certainly better for 
having met you, and I met you through the child.” 
And then, after a few moments, I spoke of the 


42 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


political anxieties, and asked him at last the question 
which had always been in my mind — namely, what 
event he anticipated which was to alter everything, 
and which few expected. 

He replied : “ I look for a Visitation, something 
from outside the world, nothing at all from inside the 
world. I don’t know what it may be. I can’t tell. 
I don’t attempt to guess at it. But I think some- 
thing strange and quiet will happen to us before 
very long, and that it will be a blessing.” 

After some moments of silence, in which he studied 
the child’s face attentively, he said to me : “ It’s 
true, isn’t it, for so a gentleman once told me 
thirty years back and more, that all down the 
history of the world, whensomever things were on 
the point of breaking up in desolation, God has 
always raised up some man to save the human race ? 
There’s nearly always been someone, so the gentle- 
man told me, even far back in pagan days, who 
came just at the nick of time to save the world from 
ruin.” He looked up at me. “ Well, I think it’s 
time for someone to come now. And I’ll tell you 
why I think it’s time. The Son of Man said, A house 
that is divided against itself cannot stand. If He 
said that, it’s true. And if it’s true of any country 
it’s true of our’n. There’s hatred abroad. There’s 
violence. There’s anger and bitter speaking. 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


43 


England’s bound to go to pieces unless some man is 
raised up by God to save us, for — never mind whether 
these new laws be good ones or bad ones — England’s 
a house divided against itself. There’s no brother- 
hood. There’s no love. People are envious of each 
other. Rich and poor, master and servants, high 
and low — they’re all at strife, all enemies. And 
why ? Because the nation has no faith in God. The 
faith of the nation is Mammon. England, and it’s 
the same with most other countries by all I hear, is 
not so much trying to serve God and Mammon as 
deliberately and blasphemously serving Mammon 
alone. What can come of that ? Life here is the 
step to life hereafter. We’re here for God’s purpose. 
And everyone is talking of wages ! I hear what the 
carters say. I hear what the people in the village 
say. And I see the rich people who come here for 
their holidays. Seems to me they’re mad — mad. 
I think the world has clean turned its back on God. 
I think men have forgotten eternity altogether.” 

While he was speaking I watched the child. The 
eyes of apathy were directed, but without interest 
of any kind at the garden soil in front of it. The 
hands were listlessly held together and lay wearily 
against the breast. The body was quite still. It 
was difficult to see the breathing of the little 
form. 


44 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


As if he knew my thoughts, the quarryman, 
looking down at the child on his breast, said to me : 
“ We cannot say whether this little one will live or 
no. There’s the look of the other world in his eyes. 
He seems only here for a moment. I somehow 
think he won’t stay with us for long — this world 
doesn’t seem like the right place for him. God’s 
will be done. But I’d love him to live — love him to 
live and lead the world back to faith.” 

He raised his head and looked towards the hills. 
“ Have you ever thought, sir,” he asked, with great 
seriousness, “ what would have happened to the 
world if the babe bom near on two thousand years 
agone had died in the manger ? Can you think of 
it ? Can you picture it ? Suppose the Son of Man 
had died a baby ! Nothing would be the same. 
Nothing.” 

My thoughts were with the child on his breast. I 
was horribly afraid it would die. Rather impatiently 
I made answer to the quarryman, leaning forward, 
I remember, to touch and stroke the tiny hands of 
the child with my finger. “ We must remember 
that morality existed before Christ. Men were 
conscious of God before He came.” 

I was startled by the tone of the old man’s voice 
as he replied : “ What ! is it so dim and unreal to 

you as that ? Don’t you feel the difference between 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


45 


Him and all others? Why, sir, think a moment, 
think a moment. What would it be if the words 
had never been uttered on earth — 4 Come unto Me/ 
4 1 am the Resurrection and the Life/ and 4 The 
kingdom of heaven is within you ’ ? Suppose the 
story of the Prodigal Son had never been told — 
* And while he was yet a great way off, his father saw 
him, and ran — ran , mark you — and fell on his neck 
and kissed him.’ What a difference if that story had 
never been told ! How should we know that God is 
love ? Who has told us so ? What proof is there 
for it ? A God of Love — why, that’s everything. 
Nothing else matters. And but for the Son of Man 
we should never have known it as the truth of life. 
Morality — aye, there was morality before He came ; 
but it wasn’t His morality, it wasn’t the same 
morality as saves us now from destruction — the 
morality of forgetting self, of doing kindness to 
others, of hunger and thirst after His righteousness. 
And where is the certain hope of heaven without the 
Son of Man ? ” 

I tried to turn him from his argument. 44 Of 
course, the teaching of Christ has been a profound 
influence,” I said placatingly ; and then added : 
44 Tell me about this child ; do you feel that it will 
not live, do you think it will not even live a year or 
two ? ” 


46 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


He replied : “ I’ve known delicate children to 
grow up and live a great while : I’ve seen some the 
doctor despaired of grow into strength and years ; 
but I’ve never yet seen a babe with the look in its 
eyes that our little one has reach manhood or 
womanhood. It’s a look never to be mistaken. I’ve 
seen it in the eyes of children twelve, thirteen, 
fourteen — merry children that ran and played and 
were happier than many another ; but I’ve never 
seen one of they children man or woman.” 

“ Do you think this child may live to be twelve 
or thirteen ? ” I asked. 

He looked down at the babe, leaning back his head 
a moment to study it, then, bowing his face, he 
kissed the child’s cheek, and said without looking 
at me, “ He’ll go soon.” 

I expected some such answer, but it clouded my 
mind with depression. I leaned forward again and 
stroked the tiny hands. 

I spoke to the child, my face close to his, and he 
looked at me with the same unlifting shadow of 
sorrow in his eyes. It seemed to me that I saw the 
expression of which the quarryman had spoken. 
A sense of tears flowed into my mind. 

“ We shall understand many things one day,” 
said the Hermit. “ And perhaps we shall know 
then why little ones are born only for a glance at this 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


47 


troubled world. Be sure, there’s a reason for it.” 
Then he said to me : “ Sir, it isn’t until a man feels 
in his heart, understands with his mind, and knows 
in his soul that the Son of Man was the very Son of 
the great God, it isn’t until then that he can look 
on everything in the world with quiet eyes.” 

When I returned to London I was oppressed by 
the feeling of doom overhanging this child. I went 

to Dr. in Grosvenor Street and consulted him. 

He assured me that the nurse was entirely com' 
petent, but recommended a doctor in Swanage, who 
was, he told me, as able a man as could be found in 
England. “ Let him see the child,” he concluded ; 
“ and if he thinks it any good I will run down 
with you one week-end and have a talk with 
him.” 

The Swanage doctor’s report was grave but not 
alarming. The child was receiving, he told me, 
the best possible treatment, the utmost care and 
attention. The weakness and apathy were due to 
marasmus, probably caused by starvation or semi- 
starvation both before and immediately after 
birth. 

The Greek word napao-nos told me what this 
disease meant. It meant a wasting, a withering 
away. I recalled Milton’s lines in Paradise 
Lost. 


48 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


Pining atrophy. 

Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence. . . . 

But I looked up the word in a dictionary. I saw 
that the pathological definition was, “ A wasting 
of the flesh.” A note added, “ The term is usually 
restricted to cases in which the cause of the wasting 
is obscure.” I felt convinced that the child would 
die. 

My mind was ridden by this gloomy conviction to 
the exclusion of almost every other thought until the 
end of the year. On the night of the 31st of December 
the vision of supernatural light came to me in my 
sleep, and once again the wordsNEXT YEAR burned 
with colossal splendour in the midst of dim circling 
spirits, whose forms were merged in the golden 
ether. 

I woke to the New Year with a feeling of relief. 
I felt that something would now happen. I even 
welcomed the idea of some tremendous catastrophe 
that would shake the whole world, as a housewife 
shakes a dirty doormat filled with dust. I was 
conscious of excitement and energy. I distinctly 
anticipated an event of some unprecedented magni- 
tude. I think I wanted the world to be turned topsy- 
turvy. 

Nothing happened on New Year’s Day. My feeling 
of elation, however, continued. I received a letter 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


49 


from the nurse on the following morning and read it 
without anxiety. My rather morbid desire to visit 
the child had quite gone. In sending money to the 
nurse I found myself writing cheerfully and lightly. 
I went to the club, I paid visits, I discussed the 
political situation, I read the newspapers. It was 
diverting to pick up the disordered threads of my 
former life, not to work at them again, but to see 
how seriously men were running to and fro 
under the invisible and descending sword of 
Damocles. 

Lord Colwall said to me at St. James’s Club on 
Saturday the 4th of January, “ There’s a movement 
afoot among the Socialists just now which is going 
to play Old Harry with the country before the 
month is out.” 

I remember smiling as I said to him, “ My dear 
fellow, won’t you welcome it ? ” 

He said : “ I’m perfectly serious. It’s a much 
bigger thing than you imagine. They mean business 
this time. We’re in for a real shindy. Wait a few 
weeks and see.” 

I answered : “ But don’t you feel that it is bound 
to happen, whatever it is ? And don’t you also 
feel that anything in the world will be better than 
the present condition of things ? ” 

“ Yes,” he said, “ if I could be certain of the Army. 


50 


CHRISTMAS DAY 


A fight would perhaps be the best thing in the world 
for us. But I’m not sure of the Army. I believe 
the country is rotten — yes, rotten from head to 
foot, rotten ! ” 

And he stalked away, angry and contemptuous. 


CHAPTER V 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 

O N the next day, Sunday, January 5th, 1 
received a visit at my rooms from the political 
journalist who had mooted to me at a dinner-party 
in October the idea of a coup d’etat. 

He was pale, worn, and disordered-looking. His 
long hair, through which he now and then passed 
his lean fingers, hung in dishevelled lankness over 
his ears. His lips twitched. His eyes were feverishly 
bright. There was a dim patch of colour in his 
grey cheeks. In spite of all these obvious signs of a 
mind clearly excited to a very dangerous degree, the 
voice of the man was low and quiet — completely 
in control. Moreover, he did not walk about the 
room or gesticulate as he spoke. He sat calmly 
all the time he was speaking, and save for the 
occasional movement of his hands through his 
hair, he was motionless. 

“ I’ve come to tell you,” he said, “ that the end 
is now in sight — literally the end. The end of life 
51 


62 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


as we know it now, the end of the British Empire 
as our forefathers knew it. All that wonderful 
glory which democracy has never been able to 
appreciate, any more than it can appreciate Shake- 
speare’s sonnets, Shelley’s lyrics, and Chopin’s 
music, will perish and pass away. It will be as if 
it had never been. Within two or three months — 
it may be only a few weeks — the Empire will fall. 
Literally, the Empire will fall. And one knows 
what that means. It means universal war. It 
means starvation from one end of England to the 
other. It means that hell will be let loose.” 

“ I am not in the least unsympathetic,” I re- 
plied, “ but I would ask you to admit that Shake- 
speare’s sonnets, Shelley’s lyrics, and Chopin’s 
music are not particularly appreciated by other 
classes in the community. And I really doubt 
whether the moneyed classes and the lower middle- 
classes of the country are any more imaginative as 
regards patriotism than the Socialists.” 

“ The rich,” he said bitterly, “ are mostly pigs. 
History will censure them, and patriots will curse 
them. But at least they are not plotting the 
downfall of the Empire. God knows I loathe the 
breed as energetically as any Socialist. They are 
responsible for much. They are ignorant, selfish, 
stupid, and futile. But they represent something 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


53 


for which we must fight to the death. They repre- 
sent individualism. They represent private liberty. 
They stand for the social order.” 

“ But tell me,” I said, “ what is the plot of which 
you have heard ? ” 

“ I have not merely heard it,” he answered ; 
“ I know it. What I am now going to tell you is 
truth, is fact. You will believe me when I tell you 
that I have had spies at work in the opposite 
camp for six months. One of my men, indeed, is 
almost a leader of the Socialists. Only three other 
men in England know this. I can trust you to 
say nothing about it for the present. In a 
month or two it won’t matter what anybody says. 
Most of us will have had our throats cut before 
that ! ” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ I can see you are incredulous,” he said, rather 
bitterly. “ I don’t blame you. It seems impossible 
that the Empire should fall. We have cried ‘ Wolf ’ 
too often. We have used the big words too fre- 
quently. No one really believes in revolution. No 
one can imagine a state of universal rapine. No 
one thinks that Armageddon will ever come. But 
how many great Empires have fallen in the past ? 
How many nations have ceased to exist ? People 
talk of ruin and revolution ; they pretend even to 


54 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


expect them ; but they don’t know what they mean. 
They haven’t enough imagination to conceive of 
actual cataclysm.” 

“ Well ? ” I repeated. 

“ Do you believe in them — in ruin and revolu- 
tion ? ” he demanded. 

“ I can see that they are possible.” 

“Yes, but do you perceive that they are in- 
evitable ? ” 

“ No, I don’t perceive that.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ I think something will happen.” 

“ That we shall muddle through again ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“You have nothing to suggest — no policy, no 
course of action ? ” 

“ I am waiting for the General Election.” 

“ It will never come.” 

“ What will prevent it ? ” I asked. 

“ The end of things.” 

“ Well, you had better tell me what you 
know.” 

“ But for what purpose ? ” 

“ Why have you come ? ” 

“ Shall I tell you ? We think that you are a 
man trusted by the country, trusted by both parties, 
respected by the newspapers. You have never 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


55 


been a party man. You have no great personal 
interests to defend. You have never cried * Wolf.* 
We think that the country will believe you. We 
want you to take the field. We want you to sound 
the alarm.” 

“You exaggerate my authority.” 

“ A man with greater authority would be worse 
than useless.” 

“ Mediocrities cannot stop revolutions.” 

“ England believes in mediocrities. A safe man 
is the best pilot for a storm. Besides, we only ask 
you to sound the alarm. We want you, to begin 
with, to write a letter to The Times. Then we want 
you to summon a meeting of Conservatives and 
Liberals and even Radicals who are opposed to 
Socialism. We want you as chairman of the meet- 
ings that will follow. A leader will be found. You 
can then retire, if you wish, to your friends. But 
you are the man for the present moment. You bear 
an honoured, even a glorious name. You have 
never figured on political platforms. Your interests 
are neither territorial nor capitalistic. And your 
writings have given you a universal reputation 
for justice and common sense. You have only to 
sound the alarm to awaken the nation — to awaken, 
that is, the brains of the nation. There is yet 
hope of a Coalition — a Coalition that will not be 


56 THOU ART NOT THE MAN 

afraid to act. You are the man to call it into 
being.” 

I asked him to make his disclosure, saying that 
of course I would act if I deemed the situation 
sufficiently serious. I must confess that I felt 
flattered by his opinion of my serviceableness. 
The most modest and nervous men are perhaps 
more dangerously susceptible to flattery than the 
bold and self-satisfied. I liked to think of myself 
as “ the safe man,” the man trusted by both parties, 
the pilot of my country. 

“ To begin with,” he said, “ the loyalty of the 
Labour Party to the Liberals, the satisfaction they 
express for the Land Bill, and all their professions 
of a desire to reach their ends through legislative 
action, are a blind. They mask a plot. They 
obscure a conspiracy. The Labour Party helped 
to pass the Insurance Bill, of which they disapprove 
heartily and contemptuously. They helped with 
Home Rule and Welsh Disestablishment, for which 
they feel not the smallest interest. Every now and 
then they have threatened the Liberal Party — so 
that people might think their work in the Commons 
was sincere. And all the time they have been pre- 
paring their blow — the blow that is to smash 
everything.” 

“ What is this blow ? ” 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


57 


“ A general strike.” 

“ Well, they have threatened that before.” 

“ The threat was a blind. While they pre- 
tended to threaten, they were quietly preparing the 
machinery. They have been preparing it for over 
a year. There is to be no hitch. No blunder of any 
kind. On May the First there will be a universal 
stoppage of work. Not a train will run, not a ship 
will be unloaded, not a van will leave the stables, 
not a mine will be descended, not a factory will be 
worked. Throughout the country, from north to 
south, from east to west, there will be paralysis of 
the national life. The thing has been devilishly 
planned. There is to be no violence, and no speeches, 
and no demonstrations. Without warning of any 
kind the workers are simply going to stop working. 
Government may order troops to unload ships and 
to run trains ; and the workers will neither protest 
nor take any steps to prevent it. There is to be no 
picketing, no appeals. The strike is to be so general 
and so sudden and so total that it will be above the 
need of force. In a week the Government will be 
obliged to surrender.” 

“You mean that the Unions are accumulating 
funds ? — that the whole community of workers 
will be able to hold out indefinitely ? ” 

“No. Funds have been accumulated, and may 


58 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


be used before the strike. But the master minds 
hold that there will be no need of funds while the 
strike lasts. The workers will be secretly warned 
a week in advance to lay in stores. The Unions, 
I understand, will buy up a good deal of coal, and 
establish depots for provisions. There is to be no 
starvation. The suddenness and completeness of 
the stoppage is to assure victory, and victory 
within a few weeks. The longest time anticipated 
for governmental defiance is three weeks.” 

“ And the end of it all ? ” 

“ The Socialists will declare a republic. They 
begin with a repudiation of national debt and 
declare the nation to be the owner of all forms of 
wealth. A committee of twelve is to publish a Code. 
No Parliament will be summoned for a year. Rent 
is to be the only tax. The Navy is to be cut down, 
the regular Army abolished, and the British Empire 
is to become an International Trust.” 

“ What on earth does that mean ? ” 

“ Our Socialists have already arrived at some sort 
of tentative agreement with the leading Socialists 
of Germany, Italy, and France. The general 
strike may or may not be international. But the 
effect of a general strike in England and the declara- 
tion of an English Republic with the British Empire 
as a free-trade International Trust are supposed 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


59 


to be amply sufficient for a settlement of foreign 
difficulties.” 

“ You are quite sure of all this ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ Have you seen any documents ? ” 

“ None exist.” 

“ You depend on your spies ? ” 

“ Yes, and one’s own observation.” 

“ The spies agree in their accounts ? ” 

“ There is absolute unanimity.” 

“ Well, what can we do ? ” 

“ First we must rouse the nation by unmasking 
the conspiracy.” 

“ But if it is denied ? ” 

“ We must unmask it in such a way that no man 
can doubt its truth. Our only hope is to alarm 
sensible men on both sides of politics. I don’t 
even despair of some of the best Labour men. 
But we must make the thing real. We must make 
the nation see that it is threatened with immediate 
total, irretrievable ruin. That is why we want you. 
You are the man to sound the alarm.” 

I thought for a moment, and then I said, “ But 
suppose I do alarm the nation. What can we do ? 
You say the workers will cease working on May Day. 
Will they change their plans because the middle- 
classes are alarmed ? ” 


60 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


“No, perhaps not. But the Government will 
be encouraged to take action.” 

“ What action can they take ? ” 

“They can break up the Unions. They can 
blockade the ports. They can employ the whole 
Army for trade purposes. Action of this kind will 
tend to frighten the entire nation, to convince it of 
the reality of the peril. The better men among the 
working-classes will be encouraged to throw off 
the tyranny of the Unions. Socialism will be 
revealed as a despotism. We shall smash the 
conspiracy. Remember, we have only two real 
difficulties in our path. First, the general apathy 
of the nation, its utter lack of imagination which 
leaves it powerless to realise what revolution means. 
Second, the ignorance of the working-classes as to 
the reality of Socialism. It needs an earthquake 
to startle the nation out of its stupor.” 

“ And I am to be the earthquake ! ” 

“ You see how serious it is ? ” 

“ Yes, oh yes. But I really ” 

“ Do you believe what I have told you ? ” 

“ I am not convinced.” 

“What will convince you? Will you see the 
spies for yourself ? ” 

“ May I consider that ? ” 

“It is time for action.” 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


61 


“ Well, a day or two.” 

“ Give me your answer to-morrow.” 

“ The day after.” 

“ Evidently you don’t realise the gravity ” 

“ The greater the gravity, the greater the neces- 
sity for consideration.” 

“Will you let me bring one of the spies to- 
night ? ” 

“ I should prefer to think in quiet.” 

He rose from his seat. “ In God’s Name,” he 
said, “ assure yourself that what I have told you 
is the truth. There is an actual conspiracy to 
seize the government of this country. It is no 
nightmare. No dream. No delusion. It is fact. 
And the conspiracy has been at work for over a 
year. Do believe that. I implore you to believe 
it. I implore you to believe it with all your 
heart, and with all your mind, and with all your 
soul.” 

“ Have you spoken,” I asked, “ to the Editor 
of The Times ? ” 

He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said abruptly. 

“ To any member of the ministry ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ And your idea of a Naval coup d’etat ? ” 

His eyes blinked. “ We have done nothing very 
much in that direction.” 


62 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


“ But something ? ” 

“ Well, certain Naval officers have been sounded.” 

“ Not very hopefully ? ” 

“ Not very hopefully.” 

“ Well, till the day after to-morrow,” I said, 
getting up from my chair. 

He took my hand sorrowfully and dejectedly, 
as if I had disappointed him. “ You can imagine, 
can’t you,” he asked, “ what this thing will mean ? 
You can imagine what Socialism means for England, 
and what it means for Europe, and what it means 
for Asia ? You don’t think of the thing as im- 
possible and fantastic ? You are a man of letters, 
your imagination has not been destroyed by 
machinery and trade — you can imagine what it 
would mean ? ” 

“You need not have any misgiving on that 
head.” 

“ But think — think of the forty million block- 
heads in this country who can’t imagine it ? That’s 
our peril. That’s the rock on which the Empire 
will break itself to powder. The stupidity of the 
British people ! The death of the imaginative 
faculty ! My God, what a peril it is ! ” 

“We have time to do something,” I said sooth- 
ingly. 

“ Oh, God, God, send us a man ! ” he cried 


THOU ART NOT THE MAN 


63 


bitterly, turning away. “ Send us a Caesar, a 
Cromwell, a Napoleon ! Send us a man who dares 
to act ! ” And as he went out I knew that in his 
soul he had already said of me, “ Thou art not the 
man.” 


CHAPTER VI 
THE PILOT 

T CONSENTED to act. 

He was paler, quieter, more depressed and 
worn in appearance. When I told him my decision 
he smiled and nodded his head with satisfaction, 
but not with enthusiasm. I could read his feelings. 
He had made a convert. He had not found a 
leader. 

I handed him a draft of the letter I had drawn 
up for The Times. He took it in his hand, went to 
a chair by the window, and with one knee resting 
on the cushion, a finger at his lips, his eyes frowning 
with disapproval, read the letter through. 

At the conclusion he raised his head, removed 
his knee from the chair, and laughing bitterly 
exclaimed, “ Excellent, excellent — for a diocesan 
festival ! ” He handed me the paper. “ My dear 
sir,” he said, with acerbity, “I am sorry to have 
troubled you.” Then he laughed again. “ And 
yet that letter ought to be preserved. Some 
64 


THE PILOT 


65 


historian ought to see it. I think it should be 
headed ‘ The Pleasurable Anticipations of a Gentle- 
man of Leisure concerning the Small and Insig- 
nificant Matter of the Downfall of the British 
Empire/ If I thought that the Museum would be 
existing a year hence I would ask you to give me 
that letter.” 

“ I was afraid it would not be volcanic enough 
for your tastes.” 

“ No ; it’s rather a small squib, isn’t it ? ” 

“But you have used violence for a good many 
years without very much effect.” 

“ Oh, no doubt. But do you really think that 
letter could check a revolution ? ” 

“ That was not its purpose.” 

“ What, then ? ” 

“ To set men thinking.” 

“ The few men who can think have thought 
already. What we want is a call to action. Would 
that letter induce anyone to lift a little finger ? ” 

“ Well, it is all I can do.” 

“ Don’t send it, I beg you.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ It would only do harm. It would only deepen 
the illusion that the whole thing is a cry of 
1 Wolf.’ ” 

“ Very well, I won’t send it.” 


66 


THE PILOT 


He smiled and gave me his hand. “ Forgive my 
disappointment,” he said. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” I inquired. 

“ Send my wife and children out of the country. ,, 

“ And yourself ? ” 

“ Oh, I shall continue to cry * Wolf.’ ” 

“ Won’t you try somebody else ? ” I mentioned 
a few names. 

“ Yes, I shall probably try somebody else,” he 
answered, and smiling once again took his departure. 

I watched the papers for some days, but saw 
nothing in the nature of a manifesto. It was 
evident, however, that something was suspected. 
Letters of a rather violent kind, and leading articles 
of a warning character, began to appear with a 
significant regularity. The Land Bill was fiercely 
denounced in advance. Capitalists announced 
that they were moving their industries abroad. 
Noblemen threatened to sell everything, to dismiss 
everybody, and to leave the country. Spinsters 
and widows wrote pathetic remonstrances. It 
was asserted again and again that the Liberal Party 
had sold itself to the Socialists. 

What made me sceptical and preserved in me 
that curious sensation of lightness and elation 
which had come with the New Year was the aspect 
of the London streets. Everything wore the 


THE PILOT 


67 


appearance of stability, and a stability so enormous 
and pervasive that it could not be overturned. I 
walked about the same streets that I had known all 
my life. Luxury and happiness still smiled upon 
the town in the midst of an incessant movement of 
business which was cheerful and good-hearted. 
The strange juxtaposition of virtue and vice, 
profligacy and poverty, greatness and littleness, 
beauty and ugliness which had always seemed to 
me of the very essence of London, still confronted 
me at every turn. I was conscious of no difference. 
No sense of revolution charged the air. No shadow 
of change fell upon the city. I saw the same 
disciplined vigour in the faces of policemen, the 
same hearty good-nature in the faces of workmen, 
the same extraordinary beauty in the faces of 
young girls, the same rather rigid expression of 
aloofness in the faces of clubland, and everywhere 
I felt the same rush of hurrying eagerness and 
excited contentment which has always characterised 
the pace of London life. 

Nevertheless, I anticipated change. I expected 
something to happen. But no one in the world 
could have convinced me to believe that my friend 
the political journalist, with his shriek of a falling 
British Empire, was anywhere near the truth. I 
began to think of him as a madman. I remembered 


68 


THE PILOT 


similar madmen I had met among the journalists 
of France. In a few days I had ceased to think 
about him. 

But I must let the reader know that I saw no 
reason whatever to doubt the foundation of his 
hysterical secret. I thought it was possible and 
even probable that the extreme Socialists were 
plotting underground for a general strike. I saw 
no reason to reject the idea that this general strike 
might be international. But the prospect of any 
such calamity did not in the least overwhelm me. 
I cannot explain how it was. All I can say is that 
never before in my life had I been so powerfully 
sustained in optimism, so conscious of equanimity, 
so assured that nothing serious would befall either 
my country or human existence. 

In this state of mind I continued until the 19th of 
April. In a desultory way I worked for an ultimate 
coalition between advanced Conservatives and 
responsible Liberals. I visited politicians of both 
camps. I wrote a series of articles for the Morning 
Post. I conducted some rather important negotia- 
tions with the wealthy proprietors of Liberal news- 
papers. And I endeavoured, but without any 
success, to effect a political understanding between 
the Anglican and Nonconformist Churches. 

All this, I must confess, was done rather in the 


THE PILOT 


69 


spirit of an amateur than a serious politician. It 
amused me to pull important strings in secret. 
Further, I was flattered to think of myself as the 
Richelieu of Hertford Street. The political jour- 
nalist in calling me the Pilot had sapped the founda- 
tions of my moral nature. I became conceited. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE WIND THAT BLEW FROM THE 
LITTLE CLOUD 

N the 19th of April I received a letter from 



the nurse in Dorsetshire telling me that the 
child was seriously ill. 

I went down by an afternoon train, and arrived 
at the cottage soon after seven o’clock. The 
Hermit was sitting by the fire reading his Bible, 
an oil-lamp burning on the table at his side. The 
nurse lighted a candle and conducted me to her 
bedroom. A fire was burning in the little grate. 
On a table which separated the nurse’s bed from 
the child’s cot a nightlight was burning in a saucer. 
A basin, a baby’s bottle, a medicine glass, and a 
steriliser stood upon this table. Over the nurse’s 
bed was a text. Just above the child’s cot was a 
coloured picture of the Good Shepherd bearing a 
lamb in His arms. 

The child was not sleeping. He lay on his side, 


70 


FROM THE LITTLE CLOUD 


71 


the eyes fixed upon the lining of his cot. The hands 
were folded together under his chin. 

I saw how greatly he was changed, but for some 
unaccountable reason I was not shocked. I was 
able to study him without a sense of tears. My 
compassion for the shrunken, withered, and ema- 
ciated little body was deep and very tender, but 
it was entirely without anxiety. 

I spoke to him, putting my hand to his cheek, 
and without changing his position he rolled his 
eyes round and for a moment looked at me with 
perplexity and surprise. The nurse asked me if I 
would like to take him out of bed. She wrapped 
him in his blanket and lifted him out of the cot. 
When she gave him into my arms his little head 
fell against my shoulder. I was really startled to 
feel the lightness of his body. 

I carried him to the fire and sat down in a low 
wicker-work chair. The nurse held the candle so that 
I could see the child. He lay on my left arm, limp 
and motionless, his eyes set upon my face with 
exactly the same expression of stupor as I had first 
seen there in Trafalgar Square. I spoke to him, 
but it made no difference. Once, for a brief moment, 
his brows contracted, a look of attention came into 
his eyes, and he seemed to see something in my 
face, or something behind me, which awoke his 


72 


THE WIND THAT BLEW 


curiosity. But the look passed quickly away, and 
with the old dreadful apathy he regarded me for 
the rest of the time he was in my arms. 

The nurse told me that one could not now hope to 
rear him. The doctor had instructed her to inform 
me of this opinion. She said he might live a few 
days. 

I remained in the country till the end came. 
We sent for the father and mother on Monday. 
The mother came alone and spent most of her time 
in telling me of the difficulty they had of making 
two ends meet in London. She looked poor, mean, 
and sordid. Her stupid face and whining voice 
troubled my patience. 

On Tuesday, the 22nd of April, the child sank 
into unconsciousness. I waited in the cottage 
till dark. Godsmark walked with me across the 
moors. He spoke of the child’s destiny in other 
worlds. 

“ I’ve heard tell,” he said, “ of some saint who 
explained about heaven. He declared that babes 
when they die go as babes into God’s Paradise. 
They remain as babes, and good women up there 
who had no children on earth, but spent their days 
in mothering the children of other folk, are set over 
these babes in heaven to nurse and to rear them 
into angels. I dare say that’s true. I can’t think 


FROM THE LITTLE CLOUD 73 

of heaven without children and without mothers. 
Some angel woman, I shouldn’t wonder, is now 
standing in my cottage waiting to carry the little 
one on her breast into the nursery of Paradise.” 

I went to bed at ten o’clock and woke before five. 
Something induced me to rise at once and go to the 
cottage. I arrived a few minutes after six. The 
morning was bright and gracious, with an exquisite 
savour of spring in the cold freshness of its breath. 
The plants in Godsmark’s garden were sparkling 
with dew. The blue sky was billowed with snow- 
coloured clouds. A lark was singing high above 
the quarry. 

The old man met me at the door. 

“ The little one’s gone,” he said. “ An hour 
back. He smiled for the first time in his fife. He 
half-lifted his little arms. His eyes seemed to stand 
out of his head. And then he sighed like a tired 
man — heavily, wearily. We watched him sink into 
his pillow. He just twitched for a moment. The 
eyes closed of themselves. The lips parted. And 
he was gone. The clock struck five as I came down 
the stairs.” 

“ Where is his mother ? ” 

“ She’s sleeping now. It was awful to hear her 
wail. You might have thought that she had loved 
our little one.” 


74 


THE WIND THAT BLEW 


“ And the nurse ? ” 

“ You can go up. She’s been dressed a couple 
of hours.” 

The child, for the first time since I had seen him, 
looked beautiful. I think I have never seen a face 
so refined and ethereal. He was smiling. An 
expression of quite exquisite peace characterised 
the tiny face. There appeared to me to be colour 
in the cheeks. 

Something drove me from the cottage. I felt 
that I could not bear to meet the beautiful child’s 
dreadful mother. I asked the nurse to come and 
see me outside the cottage. I gave her money, 
left all the arrangements for the funeral in her 
hands, and asked her to come and see me in London 
at the end of the week. 

The clinking sound of the Hermit’s chisel came 
to me from the brow of the hill. The lark was still 
singing above the cottage. From a throne of clouds 
in the east the sun was shining over the whole wide 
undulating sweep of moorland. 

I made my way to the cliffs. 

As I stood on the brow of the moor, just where 
it descends sharply to the limestone rocks — a 
height, I suppose, of some three hundred feet above 
sea-level — I observed on the horizon a little puff 
of cloud no bigger than a man’s hand. For some 


FROM THE LITTLE CLOUD 


75 


reason this solitary cloud enchained my attention. 
But while I looked at it, and marked it rising like 
a bird above the widespread and level beauty of 
the sea, my thoughts were with the child’s soul. I 
remember that I prayed. I prayed that the child 
might be happy. And I prayed that I might be 
better for the child’s influence on my life. I was 
conscious of a yearning after innocence and holiness. 

Now I do not know whether the thing that 
followed was natural or supernatural ; I do not 
trouble to determine what it might be ; but cer- 
tainly and indisputably, as I stood on that eminence 
above the sea, I saw the little cloud break, dissolve, 
and vanish, while, instantly with its evanishment, 
a sound like a beautiful sigh seemed to fill the whole 
firmament, and a wind, warm and caressing, breathed 
upon me like some divine blessing. 

It is impossible that imagination played any 
part in this experience. The wind may or may not 
have been supernatural, but that it breathed upon 
me, and that it was strangely warm and strangely 
soothing, there can be no manner of doubt, for it 
lasted a full eight or ten minutes. 

I was startled at first by the warmth of this 
sudden wind. I came quite out of the reverie 
which my prayer may have induced. And with all 
my faculties about me I observed and reflected 


76 


THE WIND THAT BLEW 


upon the thing that was occurring. I distinctly 
felt the warmth of the wind increasing. It became 
at last like the heat of a greenhouse, but with no 
effect of stifling. I stood in this warm moving air 
and was aware of everything about me — the fall 
of the land to the rocks, the faint crepitation of 
the sea, the haze of the horizon, the high, long, 
pulsating trills of larks above the moors, and the 
languorous movements of cattle feeding far below 
me near the edge of the cliff. I was conscious of 
surprise that the sensation of warmth continued. 
I even exclaimed to myself. I turned to right and 
left seeking some physical explanation. And the 
minutes passed, eight or ten at least, before the 
chill came back to the morning air. 

I was walking back to the hotel, still perplexed 
by this extraordinary experience, when a feeling 
of shame came to me for having run away, as it 
were, from the mother of the dead child. I felt 
guilty, and yet at the same time I felt happy — 
happy that I was going to her. 

I said to myself as I went along, “ She is a very 
disagreeable woman, and probably she does not 
feel the death of her child as I feel it, and almost 
certainly she will ask me for money ; but is not all 
this just the very reason why I should go back and 
try to touch her heart with the peace and blessing 


FROM THE LITTLE CLOUD 


77 


of God ? ” And as I said these words — most 
strange words for me — I was not in the least sur- 
prised at myself. 

As I approached the cottage I was conscious of 
an accession to my heart of a most earnest and a 
most tender benevolence. 

The mother of the child was sitting in a chair by 
the fire, her head bowed, her face hidden in one of 
her hands. She was rocking herself to and fro, 
crying, and muttering inarticulate sounds. The 
nurse was filling a teapot from the kettle on the 
fire. Godsmark was descending the stairs, his coat 
over his arm, his wonderful eyes shining with grief. 

I went straight up to the woman and said to her : 
“ Why do you weep ? Your child is passionately 
happy. He is with God. Have you never heard of 
heaven ? Don’t you know what it is like ? Heaven 
is so beautiful that no thought of ours can imagine 
it. It’s wildly, gloriously, everlastingly happy. 
And your child is there. In the light. In the joy. 
Surrounded by angels. He has been blest by Christ. 
He has looked into the face of God.” 

The mother, I remember, stared at me for the 
first moment or two with amazement. Then she 
smiled. She sat back in her chair, clasped her hands 
together, and quite happily exclaimed, “ If it’s true 
— if it’s true ! ” 


78 


THE WIND THAT BLEW 


Godsmark said, “ It is true.” 

The nurse, who was looking at me, said, “ I know 
it’s true.” And then she put the teapot down on 
the table, went over to the mother, kneeled beside 
her, and said with the most earnest conviction : 
“ Ask God to forgive you all your sins that you 
may one day see your child again ; and when you 
go back to London plead with your husband till 
he too falls before God asking forgiveness for his 
sins ; and teach your other children to love God 
and to love goodness and to help others ; and then 
you will know , you will know , that one day you will 
all be perfectly happy in the heaven of heavens 
where your little one is waiting for you.” 

The mother cried, “ Forgive me my sins ! forgive 
me my sins ! ” Her face looked quite noble as she 
raised it. She lifted her hands. There was a 
singular light in her eyes and on her brow. 

Godsmark said, “ Thy sins are forgiven thee.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 

T MUST now furnish my own personal account 
of the wonderful things which happened in 
London on that memorable and holy day, the 23rd 
of April — England’s Day, St. George’s Day, Shake- 
speare’s Day. 

With many of these events, of course, the public 
is now perfectly familiar ; but since I was in some 
manner, however dimly, vaguely, and uncertainly, 
warned of the Visitation, and since in all the events 
to which I shall refer I was myself able to trace the 
same source of inspiration, the same thread of a 
divine purpose, and since there is as yet no record 
in existence of these miraculous events linking 
them up with some single and positive cause, I shall 
make no apology to the reader for a narrative which 
may seem on occasion to repeat the oft-repeated. 

I left the cottage on the Dorsetshire moors, went 
back to the hotel, packed my luggage, and departed 
by the eight o’clock train for London. Throughout 
79 


80 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


all these movements I was conscious of a singular 
happiness, a singular and most compelling certainty 
that everything which Christianity declares to be 
true is indeed absolutely, entirely, and gloriously 
true. 

And yet I had no feeling whatever of religious 
fanaticism. I did not want to cry “ God bless you ” 
to everyone I met in the streets. Godsmark had 
suggested in the cottage that we should all kneel 
down together and pray ; and I had said to them, 
“ Pray in secret, pray alone, pray when you have 
shut the door.” And now I felt as if there were no 
need to pray. I was perfectly assured of the Divin e 
Presence in the world. Every breath I drew was a 
blessing. My heart beat with hosannahs and 
thanksgiving. I was almost laughing in my soul 
with the sheer elation of a living faith in a living 
God. It seemed too good to be true. But I knew 
that it was true. I knew as I have never known 
anything before in my life that it was true. 

I bought newspapers at the station and glanced 
at them with a delightful amazement. It seemed 
like a mad world — a preposterous, fantastical world ! 
What did it matter whether stocks rose or fell, 
what did it matter whether the Land Bill would do 
this or that, what did it matter if Germany was 
increasing her Navy, what did it matter if the 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


81 


Socialists were plotting a general strike, what did 
all these things matter, these things and murder 
trials, and divorce cases, and racing news, and 
actions for libels, and clerical meetings to fight 
Welsh Disestablishment, and Orange meetings to 
resist Home Rule, what did all these things matter 
now that it was certain, absolutely and perfectly 
certain, that God existed, that immortality was 
true ? 

When I changed at Wareham Station the door of 
my carriage was opened for me by a porter whom I 
had noticed on several occasions for his surliness and 
bad manners. He greeted me now with a smile, 
spoke cheerfully of the “ glorious weather,” and was 
exceedingly kind and attentive. Struck by the 
change in this man’s manner, I came out from myself 
and looked about me. There seemed quite certainly 
and obviously to be a general cheerfulness pervading 
the whole station. I think that everybody put it 
down to the fine weather. I heard people saying to 
each other what a good day it was. I noticed porters 
helping peasant women who had detrained with 
baskets from third-class carriages. 

I was alone in the carriage of the London train 
till we reached Bournemouth. Two men entered 
there and sat opposite to each other at the further 
end of the carriage. They were friends, but they 


82 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


did not speak for some time — opening tbsir papers 
and reading in complete silence for some quarter of 
an hour. Then, one of these men, who was gloomy 
in appearance, with a rather angry and malevolent 
expression in his eyes, said bitterly, as he threw one 
of his newspapers aside, “ Surely it's time that 
somebody shot Lloyd George ! ” 

His companion laid down his paper in a leisurely 
fashion, smiled genially, and said, “ What a fuss 
they are all making about politics ! What lies 
they tell, what distortions and exaggerations, what 
humbug, what dreadful humbug ! ” 

The other man looked at him with surprise. 

“ I know what you’re thinking,” said his friend, 
“ you’re thinking that I’ve changed my mind. 
Well, I have. And I’ll tell you when I changed it. 
I changed it early this morning, when you were fast 
asleep in bed ! ” He laughed and stretched his legs, 
taking off his hat, which he placed on the seat beside 
him. 

He glanced at me for a moment, as though 
he invited me to listen to him, and smiling very 
cheerfully began to speak again. His face was not 
handsome by any means, but it was attractive and 
pleasant by reason of a large and tolerant benignity 
which seemed to shine from it. At another time I 
might have taken him for a vulgar flatulent fellow 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


83 


talking for effect, but on this occasion I was disposed 
to regard him, and indeed all men, with sympathy 
and indulgent kindness. 

He said : “I woke early this morning. The sun 
came through my window and called me. A nice 
cool wind entered by the open window and told me 
to get up. I got up. I thought to myself, ‘I’ll put 
some sea air into my lungs before I catch the train 
for London.’ I took a cold bath, dressed, and 
walked to the cliff. I felt good. I appreciated the 
world. I stood there and just loved being alive. And 
as I stood there, the sun at my side, the sea twinkling 
in front of me, and the soft warm wind in my face, 
it came to me that life ought to be, and could be, 
good for everybody. What does life need for happi- 
ness ? Politics ? Acts of Parliament ? Fighting 
speeches and snarling newspapers ? Not a bit of 
it ! Not a bit of it ! ” 

He laughed and glanced at me again. “ What does 
it need ? ” he continued, turning to his friend. “ I’ll 
tell you. I’ll tell you in one word.” He leaned 
forward and tapped his friend on the knee. “ It 
needs Kindness.” 

His friend took off his eye-glasses, folded them 
up, and inserted them into his handkerchief pocket 
with meticulous slowness. Then he said, “ Rot ! ” 

The other burst out laughing. 


84 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


“ Rot ! ” repeated the lugubrious man. Then 
speaking quickly and with considerable acerbity, he 
said : “A little fine weather has got into your head, 
like wine. You’re intoxicated. What the world 
needs is a dictator. Kindness is for pet dogs and 
canaries. Humanity needs discipline. Europe is 
making straight for anarchy because it’s soft. It’s 
soft with liberty and sentimentalism and humani- 
tarianism. Run your business on the lines of 
Kindness and see where it leads you ! These 
Radicals are trying to run the British Empire on 
sentimental lines and they’re smashing up the show. 
Life’s a struggle. Life’s hard. There’s no kindness 
in nature, not a scrap. If men stop struggling and 
grappling and wrestling, everything comes to ruin.” 

The other man replied : “ My dear old fellow, 
don’t you see that all the mess we’ve made of things 
is due to just that fine of business you’re in love 
with ? Don’t you see that Lloyd George is simply 
trying to clear up that mess ? He won’t do it. He 
can’t do it. Nothing on earth can do it, except 
Kindness. But the muddle and confusion which 
have placed him where he is are the creation of your 
gospel — the gospel of struggle, the gospel of punching 
a man in the face when he gets in your road, the 
gospel of treading down the miserable wretches who 
fall by the way, the gospel of universal ju-jitsu ! 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


85 


Why, we’ve had nothing else all the time. The world 
has never tried Kindness. Individuals have tried 
it, and but for them we should have gone to pot 
centuries ago — yes, you bet we should ! — but the 
world has never tried to conduct its affairs on the 
lines of Kindness. That’s why things are all at 
sixes and sevens. Why, look at the world. It’s 
like a madhouse ! ” 

They argued in this manner all the way to London. 
The lugubrious man challenged his friend to intro- 
duce Kindness into his business ; and the other 
retaliated by mentioning large and prosperous firms 
who had established co-partnership and who had 
provided their employees with comfortable houses, 
pleasure-grounds, gymnasia, and reading-rooms. 

“ Look at the other way of doing business ! ” 
exclaimed the cheerful man. “ Look at strikes, for 
instance ! What do you think of strikes ? Are they 
logical, are they reasonable, are they common sense ? 
Is that the way to conduct business ? ” 

The other said, “ Who make the strikes ? A lot 
of confounded agitators ! ” 

“ But,” laughed the other man, “ don’t you agree 
that masters have a right to lock out their men ? ” 
“ Of course they have.” 

“ Then haven’t the men a right to withhold their 
labour ? ” 


86 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


“ They have the right, but there’d be no need if 
it wasn’t for agitators.” 

“ But the thing happens ! Don’t you see it 
happens ? That’s my point. That’s what I’m 
driving at. You get lock-outs, and strikes, and 
agitators, and Insurance Bills, and Limehouse 
speeches because the whole thing is unnatural. 
They couldn’t exist if natural Kindness ruled the 
roost. I’ve been interested in politics all my life, but 
I see the folly of them now. I’m converted ! I say 
that Tory and Radical are both as bad as each other, 
and both equally wrong, equally absurd. There’s 
only one thing for it. Kindness.” 

“ Why not,” I said, “ call it Religion ? ” 

The jovial fellow almost left his seat to embrace 
me. “ You’ve said it,” he cried out. “ I wasn’t 
brave enough. I softened it to Kindness. But 
that’s what I meant. Religion. Only one thing 
can save humanity, and that’s Religion.” 

The other man said, contemptuously, “ Rather 
an old remedy, isn’t it ? ” 

His friend was about to reply, but checked and 
looked at me. I said to the lugubrious man, “ Is it 
so old ? ” 

“ I thought so.” 

44 Not so old as the discipline of despotism.” 

44 Perhaps not.” 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


87 


“ And those who have tried it say that it does 
what it professes to do.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ Indeed.” 

He looked at me with the utmost disfavour, and 
said : “ When I hear the Sermon on the Mount 
preached in the Stock Exchange, and when I see 
those principles of conduct practised in the Bank of 
England, I’ll consider religion as a remedy for 
political confusion.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better,” I asked, “ if you first 
tried it in your own life ? Forgive me for the 
suggestion, but you do not seem to me a happy man.” 

He stared at me angrily, and made no answer. 

“ Shall I tell you how to begin ? ” I asked — and I 
was not in the least surprised by my audacity — 
“ Begin by humbling yourself in the dust before the 
majesty of Almighty God. Humble yourself till you 
feel your heart break. Then rise and go into the 
world, not to see how much you can get out of your 
fellow-creatures, but how much goodness you can 
do, how much kindness you can show, how many 
men and women and little sorrowful poor children 
you can comfort, help, and save. That’s Religion. 
Have you ever tried it ? Have you ever once said in 
your whole fife, ‘ God be merciful to me a sinner ’ ? 
Believe me, God exists. Believe me, your soul will 


88 


IN THE TRAIN TO LONDON 


rise from the dead. The Stock Exchange is not 
eternal. The Bank of England is not so old as the 
Decalogue. Many things will pass. Even the 
British Empire may pass. But your soul is im- 
mortal. God exists.” 

He made no answer. 

Very quietly, in quite a different tone of voice, his 
friend said to him : “ God exists ! It’s true. God 
really does exist. And that alters everything.” 


CHAPTER IX 

THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 
S I walked up the platform of Waterloo Station 



— it was just after eleven o’clock and I had 
eaten no mouthful of food since the previous night — 
the same strange feeling of confident elation which 
had come to me on the Dorsetshire cliffs that 
morning held me and sustained me in an atmosphere 
of the most satisfying peace and joy. 

It was as if I walked on air. It was as if the golden 
ether of my vision bathed all the common world for 
me in translucent glory. I knew that God existed. 
I knew that blessing had come from heaven. I felt 
sure that the longing of all faithful hearts was now 
to be fulfilled. 

But in what way blessing was to come, and what 
form it was to take, I did not know, and I think I 
did not even trouble to conjecture. If my memory 
is right, I am disposed to think that my rational 
brain was overpowered — not in suspense — was 
overoowered by spiritual ecstasy. I thought. I 


89 


90 THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 


reflected. I received impressions and I was conscious 
of sensations. But my brain lay, if I may so 
express it, like a happy and delighted child on 
the bosom of my soul, which was transfigured by 
the thought of God. My rational brain had no 
doubts, no apprehensions. It was trustful, restful, 
confident. 

One thing I remember distinctly. A line from the 
Psalms came into my mind as I walked up the 
platform. I found myself saying, “ My heart and 
my flesh crieth out for the living God.” And I felt 
that this was extraordinarily true. I mean, it 
really did seem to me that my spirit penetrated 
and interpenetrated my whole body, so that the flesh 
itself was conscious and articulate, so that I myself, 
in spirit, mind, and body, was crying out for the 
living God, crying out for joy and delight of the 
living God. 

And I was not surprised at this most unusual 
frame of mind — if one may so call it. It did not 
strike me as strange or incongruous. I felt myself 
to be perfectly rational, perfectly natural — not in 
the least excited or fanatical. I seemed to know 
that if every man in the world were so completely 
certain of God’s existence as I was, he would be 
conscious of sensations exactly equivalent to my 


own. 


THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 91 


I was watching my luggage being placed in the 
front of a taxi-cab when I felt my arm touched and 
heard my name called by a welcome and familiar 
voice. I looked round and encountered my friends 
the two Miss Kerringtons, in whose charming and 
restful house in Surrey I had so often spent delight- 
ful days. 

These very refined women, fairly well off, ex- 
ceedingly cultured, and devoted to their garden, 
stood before me with a look in their pleas- 
ant faces which I had never before observed 
there. 

“ We’re perfectly mad,” said Cynthia, laughing. 

“ Mad as March hares,” smiled Augusta. 

“ What do you think has come to us ? ” said 
Cynthia, drawing closer to me, laying a hand on my 
arm, and raising her kind face to mine with an 
expression of amusement. “ I was in the garden 
before breakfast, when it suddenly occurred to me 
that I was the most odiously selfish woman alive. 
I felt that I must instantly go and tell Augusta. I 
walked straight off towards the house to do so. 
And do you know, just as I was mounting the steps 
to the terrace, Augusta looked out of her bedroom 
window, and said to me, ‘Cynthia, we’re the most 
detestable old cats in the world.’ The same 
thought had come to her ! ” 


92 THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 


“ Wasn’t it strange ? ” asked Augusta. “ 1 
was just pinning on my jabot when something 
seemed to say to me, ‘ Augusta, you think of nobody 
but yourself ; you’re a cat, a perfect cat.’ I looked 
at myself in the glass, and said, c So I am ; a selfish 
cat. I must tell Cynthia.’ And I got up and looked 
out of the window . . 

“ It was a brain wave,” said Cynthia. 

“ Telepathy,” said Augusta. 

“ And we agreed at breakfast,” said Cynthia, 
“ that we would at once begin to do things for other 
people. And so here we are. We are going to drive 
to St. James’s Square and see the Bishop of London. 
We are going to tell him that we’ve got five spare 
bedrooms, three acres of garden, and a thousand 
a year between us, and that we want to coddle the 
wives of poor curates when they’re run down 
and disheartened ; and the children, too, if they 
aren’t too messy and mischievous ! ” 

“ We feel,” said Augusta, “ that we must do 
something.” 

I saw them into a cab, and as I closed the door I 
looked through the window-space into their nice, 
kind faces, and said to them, “ Do you know 
what has happened to you ? You believe in 
God.” 

Cynthia looked at Augusta, and Augusta looked 


THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 93 


at Cynthia. “ That’s a brain wave ! ” said 
Cynthia. 

“ I was just going to say the same thing myself,” 
said Augusta. “ Isn’t that extraordinary ? ” 

“ We’ve always thought there was a God . . .” 

“ But now we know it ! ” 

When I got to the door of my cab, where the porter 
was still standing at the open door, I said, without 
having thought of the direction before, “ Tell him 
to drive to 32 John Street, Theobald’s Road.” And 
the porter, shutting the door, smiled at me, looked 
at me quite affectionately, and said, “ I know that 
address well, sir. Ragged School Union. Sir John 
Kirk. Crutch and Kindness League. One of my 
little ones is a cripple. They’re mighty kind 
to her. She can’t speak too highly of the 
League.” 

What did I propose to do there ? I did not know. 
Why did I think of going there ? I cannot tell. 
Every year I sent Sir John Kirk five guineas ; three 
or four times I had encountered him at drawing- 
room meetings ; on one occasion he had been kind 
enough to show me something of the tragedy 
of Hoxton Market. But I knew other men in 
the same way. I subscribed to several similar 
charities. I cannot tell what put the idea into 
my head. 


94 THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 


As I entered the offices of the Ragged School 
Union, Sir John Kirk came from his room with the 
Duke of Gloucester. We greeted each other, and 
then the Duke said to me : 

“ An idea occurred to me at breakfast this 
morning. It suddenly struck me that I had got 
two big places in the country standing empty, and 
likely to be empty all the summer. I thought to 
myself, Why not let the Ragged School Union fill 
them up with children ? How they’d enjoy romping 
in the gardens, going round the farm, playing in the 
fields, larking in the woods ! It seemed to me a 
perfectly excellent idea. Then I reflected that I 
had better consult the Duchess. I walked to her 
room, and by Jove, what do you think ? My dear 
fellow, she was just coming to me with an almost 
identical suggestion ! Isn’t that remarkable ? What 
do people call it — a brain wave, isn’t it ? Well, 
anyhow, we’ve arranged it now. The Duchess 
will have to find the servants and engage nurses, and 
Sir John here is going to find the children. I fancy 
we shall go down ourselves and see how they get 
on. 

“ I think,” said Sir John, “ that we have found 
a second Lord Shaftesbury in His Grace.” 

“ Oh, no ! not at all,” protested the Duke. 
“ Shaftesbury was unique. A man raised up by 


THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 95 


Providence. I am merely fond of children and glad 
to be of any service I can, but I’m quite unworthy 
to be likened to Lord Shaftesbury.” 

While he was speaking, Mr. Solomon Michael, the 
banker, entered the office. Sir John Kirk introduced 
him to the Duke and spoke of him as a true friend 
of the League. 

“ Oh, but,” said Mr. Michael, “ we ought all of us 
to do a great deal more. It’s our privilege. And I 
think we ought not to content ourselves with giving 
money. We ought to help with our own hearts and 
with our own hands. I am not a Christian in the 
ecclesiastical sense, but I am a Christian in the 
human sense. I count it a privilege to help the 
Ragged School Union. Jewish charities are good, 
but there is too much red tape. In the Ragged 
School Union you make room for the heart.” 

He said that an idea had come to him that morning 
which he would like to discuss with Sir John 
Kirk. 

As I had nothing myself to propose, I said that I 
would call again, and leaving Kirk and Michael 
together, I went into the street with the Duke, 
where the taxi-cab was waiting with my luggage. 

“ I can’t help thinking,” said the Duke, taking my 
arm to slow my paces, and speaking in the manner 
of one who can only utter inmost and unusual 


96 THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 


thoughts very nonchalantly, “ that if well-off and 
leisured people — for leisure’s a form of wealth — 
showed a personal interest in the poor — sub- 
scriptions are very little use by themselves — I say, 
my dear fellow, I can’t help thinking that if we did 
our duty in this way, all of us, and thoroughly, 
there’d be an end of class jealousies, class hatreds, 
class warfare. I feel it strongly. I’m sure of it. 
But look how we live ! The classes are as separated 
as passengers on a liner. The upper-classes live 
entirely separate from the middle-classes. The 
middle-classes have no social connection with the 
lower-classes. And the lower-classes inhabit a 
world entirely of their own — a sordid, struggling, 
joyless, anxious world. What we have to do is not 
to break down class distinctions, that is impossible ; 
but to break down the geographical barriers of the 
classes. We must all live together. We must 
share the world between us.” 

With this sentiment I agreed cordially. 

“ And I think, too,” said the Duke, rather 
unwillingly, and yet with great conviction, “that 
our fellows have made a mistake in abusing Lloyd 
George like a pickpocket. It has only made him 
worse. What they should have done, I think, was 
to co-operate with him, to claim him as their own 
man, to work for exactly the same ends. It is not 


THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 97 


what he does that is dangerous, it’s the manner and 
the spirit in whioh he does it. And that manner and 
spirit would have been entirely innocuous if we had 
shown him sympathy and expressed admiration for 
his ideals. After all, I mean, are not his ideals 
the ideals which every — well, every true Christian 
ought to cherish in his heart ? If we really believed 
in our religion, I mean, should we not desire to 
abolish slums, to give every child a chance of 
growing up good, strong, intelligent, to remove every 
anxiety and distress from the working-man and the 
working- woman ? What’s that text ? — Bear ye one 
another's burdens , isn’t it ? Well, that’s religion. 
If we did that, my dear fellow, depend upon it 
there’d be no class warfare and no fear of a revolu- 
tion.” 

“ You are perfectly right, Duke,” I replied — 
“ perfectly. And I’ll tell you, if you’ll let me, what 
you yourself should do at once. You must go and 
speak to that effect in the House of Lords this 
afternoon. You must speak to that effect in your 
house — in your club — everywhere. Make yourself a 
missionary of the millennium. Don’t fear a revolu- 
tion. It isn’t coming. Work for the kingdom of 
God. It’s at hand.” 

He said to me as we were about to part, “ I tell you 
what makes the difference in a man’s views and in 


98 THE WHEEL BEGINS TO TURN 


his attitude towards life — it’s really and truly 
believing that there is a God. . . *” 

I told my cabman to drive to Canning Town, much 
to his amazement, and got into the cab intending to 
see the father of the little child lying dead in Dorset- 
shire. 


CHAPTER X 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 



S I drove through that part of London which 


we call the City I remarked with some sur- 
prise the great number of handsome motor-cars in 
the traffic. This led me to reflect on the immense 
wealth of London and also on the change which 
has taken place in the social position and the moral 
character of our trading-classes. I wondered what 
the merchants of sixty or seventy years ago would 
have thought of this extraordinary spectacle in 
the London streets — magnificent carriages gliding 
through the streets and carrying their owners to 
work at noonday ! 

But what was my surprise, as they say in story- 
books, to find that this incessant line of motor-cars 
did not set down their occupiers in the City, but 
glided on, as well as the congested traffic would allow 
them, towards the east end of the town. My 
surprise was all the greater when I caught sight of 
99 


100 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


fashionable women in some of these fine carriages. 
When the City was left behind, and the trams of 
Whitechapel began, there was still as far as eye 
could see a fine of these splendid vehicles moving 
forward into the gloom and depression of the 
Commercial Road. 

At last I imagined that some Royal function was 
to take place. Crowds stood on the pavement’s 
edge. The motor-cars were attracting attention. 
Children ran at the side of some of the cars, holding 
out their hands for coppers ; women with babies 
in their arms congregated at the entry of every 
alley and court ; men came from public-houses 
and stood gaping, frowning, or laughing at the 
procession of luxury. I should have been quite 
certain that a function was in progress but for the 
total absence of flags from the streets. 

There was presently a block in the traffic, and a 
limousine drew alongside of my taxi-cab. I glanced 
through the window and saw that my neighbour 
was Lady Edmund Peverel. She saw me and at once 
came to the window-space. “ What does it all 
mean ? ” she asked. 

“ Tell me,” I answered. 

“ Don’t you know ? ” 

“ Not in the least.” 

“ I can’t understand it,” she said. “ Ever since 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 101 

I started there has been a regular procession of 
cars.” 

Her chauffeur and footman were glancing super- 
ciliously at my driver, who was one of those shabby 
and odious creatures who lounge in their seats, 
push their caps to the backs of their heads, and 
endeavour to appear as disreputable and slovenly 
and cynical as possible. 

“ Where are you going yourself ? ” I inquired. 

“ Oh, an idea came to me at breakfast this 
morning,” she made answer. “ It seemed such a 
beautiful day, and I thought that perhaps it would 
be a nice thing to do to ” 

At that moment my driver let in the clutch and 
we started forward with a jerk. 

Lady Edmund’s car passed me, but stopped 
before I lost sight of it. I felt that I was on the 
track of the mystery, and told my driver to stop 
when we reached the place where Lady Edmund 
had alighted. Other cars, I noticed, were turning 
off to right and left, moving slowly up narrow 
streets which seemed to wind into unspeakable 
squalor. 

I caught up with Lady Edmund as she was 
entering the premises of a Mission. “You were 
going to tell me ? ” I said, smiling. 

She laughed. “ Oh, I am glad you are here,” 


102 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


she replied. “ I am just beginning to feel rather 
nervous. You see, this is the first time I have ever 
done anything.” 

• “I believe I know ! ” 

“ What do you know ? ” 

“ Your purpose.” 

“ Oh, it’s nothing wonderful. Only a little odd. 
I’m going to take some of the poor people about 
here for a drive. I thought of Kew Gardens, or 
Hindhead, or perhaps the New Forest. But, you 
see, I’ve never done anything like this before. 
I don’t quite know how it will work itself out. It’s 
just an impulse. I felt that it was selfish to have 
two or three cars doing nothing, and I thought 
how poor people in East London would enjoy a 
drive. Then I remembered an appeal for money 
that had reached me by the morning post from 
this Mission. I ordered the car, and here I 
am.” 

“Do you know,” I answered, “that all the other 
cars you saw in the streets this morning are moving 
on a similar errand ? ” 

“ You don’t mean that ? ” 

“ I am sure.” 

“ But how has it happened ? It can’t possibly 
be that my impulse has communicated itself to 
half London ? It’s too odd. It’s not the thing 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


103 


that would occur to everybody. It’s rather fantastic 
and quixotic.” 

“ Nevertheless, the same impulse which has 
brought you here is scattering these poor quarters 
with motor-cars.” 

“ It’s like a miracle ! ” 

“ But perhaps it is.” 

She glanced at me with surprise. A cheer from 
the street made us look round. A motor-car swept 
past filled with children. They were standing up 
waving handkerchiefs and little flags, and cheering 
as hard as they could. Another car just as crowded 
followed, and then another. 

We looked at each other. 

“Is it the end of the world ? ” Lady Edmund 
asked. 

“ Or the beginning ? ” 

“ The beginning of what ? ” 

“ The Kingdom.” 

She laid her hand on my arm. “ Do you believe 
that ? ” she asked. “ I wonder ! This morning it 
seemed to me that I believed in God for the first 
time in my life.” 

“ Tell me about that ” 

“ Oh, I can’t. It’s something for which no 
language has yet been invented. I was just per- 
fectly certain that God exists. I felt marvellously 


104 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


light and gay. I was elated. I wanted to embrace 
the world, wanted to mother humanity. I never 
knew before what love could mean.” 

“ And now ? ” • 

“ Yes, I am still happy, but I am nervous. If 
I could be sure that many other people are really 
doing the same thing I should get back my con- 
fidence. Do you really think that this same impulse 
has come to many ?— do you really believe it is a 
miracle? ” 

“ Yes, it is a miracle. You know that phrase, 
‘ visited and redeemed His people ’ ? I think this 
is also a Divine Visitation. In some way God has 
breathed Himself into the world. I knew it early 
this morning.” 

She studied me for a moment, and then her face 
lighted. “ Yes, it’s true, it’s true ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ Hitherto we have said, ‘ Perhaps there is a God,’ 
or ‘We hope there is a God.’ But now we know it. 
We actually know for certain that there is a God. 
Oh, what a difference it makes ! Come and help 
me to fill my car ! ” she concluded, and quite 
hastened to her work. 

In a quarter of an hour we had packed six people 
into the limousine. Lady Edmund gave them 
money and told the footman to take them to the 
Crystal Palace. She then returned to the Mission, 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


105 


arranged to send some of the workers to her place 
in Herefordshire, subscribed to the funds, inquired 
what could be done for the children, and promised 
to return on the following day. 

“ And now,” she said, “ you must take me in 
your taxi-cab. Where are you going ? ” 

I told her, and we set out together. 

When we arrived at the street where the parents 
of my little dead godchild had their home we found 
an old-fashioned landau drawn by a couple of fat 
steaming horses standing in the gutter close to the 
very house of our quest. Beside the carriage stood 
an old white-haired clergyman, exceedingly spruce 
in his dress, and of rather a worldly appearance. 
Inside the carriage, .leaning towards the window- 
space, was an old lady arrayed in finery of another 
period, very rich-looking and very virtuous and 
choice. 

They were joined almost immediately by a man 
carrying a notebook and a foot-rule, who came from 
one of the alleys that burrow out of this street, 
I heard this man say to the old clergyman, “ The 
best thing you can do, sir, is to pull ’em all down 
and build afresh.” 

The clergyman stroked his chin for a moment and 
then turned to the old lady in the carriage. “ What 
do you think, dear ? ” he inquired. 


106 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


Something impelled me to speak to this couple. 
I asked if they were thinking of pulling down any 
of the houses in that street, apologising for the 
question on the ground that I was interested in a 
family who were probably their tenants. 

The clergyman glanced half suspiciously and half 
guiltily from me to Lady Edmund, and from Lady 
Edmund to me. Then he began “ washing his 
hands,” smiling uneasily, humming and hawing, and 
finally he turned to his wife. 

She said : “ My husband has owned property 
here for some years, but has never before seen it. 
He thought this morning that he would like to look 
at it, and if the houses needed any repairs to carry 
them out. We were both pained to find that the 
houses are in a very bad condition. Our builder, 
Mr. Thomas, now recommends us to pull all the 
houses down and to build better ones in their place. 
We shall probably do so. But you need be at no 
anxiety as to the welfare of the family you spoke 
about. We shall certainly provide for everybody 
while the change is being made.” 

“ It will cost a great deal of money,” said the 
clergyman. 

“Still,” said the old lady, “if it is a right and 
wise thing to do, we shall not grudge the expense.” 

“ I was only thinking, dear,” said the old clergy- 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


107 


man, “ that if others are interested in the poor 
people of this street, perhaps they would like to 
help in the minor matter of providing for them 
while the old houses are demolished.” 

At this point our conversation was interrupted 
violently. 

“ Oh, so there he is ! ” cried a loud-ringing voice, 
and turning round I saw a tall, thin, grey -faced priest 
in biretta and cassock striding up to us, surrounded 
by a grinning group of young hooligans. 

As long as I live I shall never forget the tre- 
mendous indignation of that towering priest and 
the shattering effect it made upon the old clergy- 
man. It lives in my memory like an historic prize- 
fight, a prize-fight of souls, in which a soul fright- 
fully strong and frightfully merciless hammered a 
weaker soul to a gelatinous condition of impotence. 

“ So you have come at last ! ” cried the priest, 
striding up to us and addressing the old clergyman. 
“ Come to look at your property, come to smell the 
odours of crime, poverty, and destitution, come to 
feast your eyes on God’s image distorted by evil 
and want and misery into the likeness of Satan. 
You’ve done well out of it. Old man, you’ve made 
money out of it — money, money, money ! You’ve 
made money out of wretchedness, and want, and 
drunkenness, and crime. You own a couple of 


108 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


public-houses. You own at least seven bawdy- 
houses. I’ve written and told you so a hundred 
times. You’ve refused to answer my letters. So 
long as you got the rents, what the hell did you 
care ? I say, what the hell did you care ? You’re 
well-dressed ; you live in a nice large house on 
Hampstead Heath ; you’ve got a carriage ; you 
fare sumptuously every day ; and if you go to preach 
for some poor devil of a vicar in the suburbs who 
has given his lean curate a fortnight’s holiday you 
charge a guinea for your old sermon. God have mercy 
on your soul ! I say, God have mercy on your soul ! 
What will He say to you when your soul appears 
before Him ? What will Christ say to you ? — the 
Christ you’ve spent your whole life first in mis- 
representing and then in ignoring. Will He say 
the great ‘ Inasmuch ’ to you ? Do you expect 
it ? Are you counting on it ? Tell us, tell us — 
you’ve got a congregation about you — tell us 
all here what you expect in the next world. 
Tell us what you have done. Have you done 
anything ? Have you ever visited your seven 
bawdy-houses to save the women there ? Have 
you ever preached in your beer-shops ? Have you 
ever clothed the naked and fed the hungry in your 
slums ? Tell us, old man, tell us what you have 
done. You replied to my first letter that your agent 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


109 


would report to you. What did he report ? Tell 
us that. You never answered my other letters. 
Why not ? Tell us why you never answered them. 
I am a priest of your own Church. I follow the 
same Master. Why did you flout me ? — why did 
you treat me as a liar ? You have family prayers, 
they tell me ; your servants listen to you reading 
the Gospel before they bring in your omelette and 
your coffee and your toast. But afterwards — 
what do you do afterwards ? Do you live the life ? 
Tell us what you do. You send a guinea a year to 
Dr. Barnardo, a guinea a year to the London Hos- 
pital, a guinea a year to the Church Missionary 
Society. But what do you do ? How many 
children have you sheltered, how many poor people 
have you fed and clothed, how many prisons have 
you visited ? You’re rich — rich in money and rich 
in leisure. What have you done ? Tell us all, what 
have you done ? Think of all the time you’ve had 
on your hands. Think of the idle days. What have 
you done ? Why is it you have come here to-day ? 
If to-day, why not yesterday ? What have you 
done with all your yesterdays ? Didn’t these 
houses want painting and papering yesterday ? 
Didn’t the roof want mending, the fireplaces 
restoring, the drains inspecting? Why have you 
come to-day ? Are you afraid of the County 


110 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


Council ? The County Council !— why, you’ve 
flouted God for years. All these years ! Think of 
it, you’ve flouted God Almighty for years, and now 
you’re afraid of the County Council ! ” 

The clergyman’s wife, who had first withdrawn 
into the carriage and then glanced out from the 
window-space endeavouring to check the torrential 
flow of the priest’s anger, now opened the carriage 
door and stepped out on the pavement. She took 
her husband’s arm — she was several inches taller — 
and confronting the priest, spoke to him as follows, 
in a low voice which slightly trembled with feeling : 

“ My husband is a very delicate man ; he is not 
able to make journeys, and he is not able to attend 
to business. He has been obliged to trust his agent, 
and so far the reports of the agent have not conveyed 
to his mind the serious condition of his property. 
But now that he has seen it for himself he intends 
to pull down all the houses and build better ones 
in their place. You will find him, if you come and 
see us, most willing to assist in your work and do 
what he can for your people.” 

“ I will do nothing,” said the old clergyman, 
“ nothing at all for a Jesuit masquerading as an 
English clergyman.” He munched his lips together 
for a moment, and then suddenly stamping his 
foot on the pavement he exclaimed passionately : 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


111 


“ How dare you speak to me as you have spoken 
just now ? Your place is with Rome. You take 
the pay of the Church of England and do the work 
of the Scarlet Woman. You’re dishonest. You’re 
a cheat. If you had not been a Papist I should have 
answered your letters ; I should have come here 
before. You’ve got pictures in your church, and 
images of the Virgin. You burn incense. You wear 
heathen and unholy vestments. You prostrate 
yourself before the Crucifix. And you reserve the 
Sacrament.” 

The priest watched the vehemence of the old 
white-faced and trembling clergyman with a look 
of genuine curiosity. Then he said to him : “ Land- 
lord, what do you know about the Church of Christ ? 
Examine your heart. What do you know about 
His Church ? Tell us, what are the tests of Judg- 
ment Day ? What does Christ Himself say will be 
the tests of Judgment Day ? Do you know ? ” 

“I’ll have nothing to do with you,” said the old 
clergyman, moving towards his carriage. 

“ There’s nothing about vestments and images in 
Christ’s account of Judgment Day,” said the priest. 
“ He doesn’t say a word about creed or ritual. He 
speaks of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, 
visiting the sick, and of hospitality to the friendless. 
How do you stand there, old Landlord ? How do 


112 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


you stand there, old Humbug ? Have you fed the 
hungry ? — by Heaven, you’ve taken rent from 
them ! Have you clothed the naked, visited the 
sick, taken in the stranger ? — no, by' Heaven, 
you’ve made a profit out of them ! Listen. I’ve 
seen thousands of men, women, and children go to 
hell in streets owned by you. Where were you ? 
What did you say or do to save them ? Did you 
care ? Did you care a snap whether they went to 
heaven or hell ? You judge me. But why didn’t 
you build a church to your own way of thinking 
in this very street ? Why didn’t you come down 
and preach the true Gospel ? You’ve got seven 
bawdy-houses. Could you not have spared one 
and built a church on its dust and ashes ” 

The clergyman almost sprang at him. “ I know 
nothing of these bawdy-houses, nothing, nothing, 
nothing ! I’m not responsible. I’m the superior 
landlord. I can’t break my leases.” 

“ Tell that to God at Judgment Day ! ” cried 
the priest. 

The old lady interrupted. “ You cannot have 
heard what I said,” she muttered in a quick and 
nervous tone ; “ my husband intends to pull down 
these houses and build new ones.” 

“ That is good enough for to-morrow, madam,” 
answered the priest, “ but what of yesterday ? 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


113 


What of the thousands who have died and gone to 
hell in these houses ? ” 

“ You were here to tell them the means of salva- 
tion,” she retorted. 

“I have not been idle,” he answered angrily. 
“ I have lived with them, starved with them, 
suffered with them. And sometimes — because of 
you, because of you — I doubted with them the 
existence of a God of Love. That is what you have 
done. You have made it hard for men, women, and 
children to believe in a God of Love. Many have 
died in your damnable houses cursing His Name.” 

The crowd, which had hitherto listened with a 
strange seriousness to this discussion, and which had 
become much larger, now showed unmistakable 
signs of hostility towards the clergyman and his 
wife. Several very foul- faced women were in this 
mob, and they directed angry scowls and muttered 
bitter words, not only at the clergyman and his 
wife, but at Lady Edmund and me, whom they 
evidently took to be of the landlord’s party. 

The clergyman’s wife turned to me and said con- 
fidentially in my ear : “ There is much truth in 
what this priest says. We have indeed left undone 
many things which we ought to have done. We 
both felt that most strangely this morning. We 
both wished to come down here and do whatever 

i 


114 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 


we could for these poor people. And we intend to 
do much for them. Henceforward we shall be 
constantly in their midst. I acknowledge frankly 
our sins in the past ; I feel guilty and ashamed ; 
I pray that God will forgive us our neglect. But 
this is not the place for a violent discussion. I beg 
you earnestly to put a stop to it.” 

I felt how unseemly this wrangle was, and going 
to the priest I begged him to give me a few minutes 
of his time. 

In this sudden interlude of peace a drunken man 
came shouting and reeling through the crowd. He 
drove people to right and left of him, lurching first 
towards the gutters and then plunging with his head 
down and his legs giving under him against the 
greasy slum walls. On seeing the priest he stopped 
abruptly, raised his head, frowned with his glazed 
eyes, and began to mumble words that set people 
laughing. 

I recognised the father of the child lying dead 
in Dorsetshire. 

The priest went to him at once. “Catch hold 
of my arm,” he said ; “I’ll take you home.” 

The clergyman and his wife entered their carriage, 
followed by the builder. The crowd surged round 
them, some laughing and some hissing. Lady 
Edmund caught my arm and said to me, “ I 


A REPENTANT LANDLORD 115 

must go home. I am not afraid, but I want to 
think.” 

I said to her, “ Will you leave my luggage for 
me in Hertford Street ? The cab can then take you 
home. I will come and see you to-night. But for 
the present I must stay here.” 

When the cab had gone I followed the priest and 
the drunkard to the end of the street. 


CHAPTER XI 


VISION OF A SOUL 

T HE door of the house stood open. As I entered 
the priest was standing over the drunkard, 
who sprawled on a disagreeable unmade bed in a 
corner of the dark ill-smelling room. The voice of 
the priest was not so passionate and harsh as it had 
been in his onslaught on the clergyman, but it was 
nevertheless full of judgment. 

I studied his face with interest, because it was 
one of those faces in which one may see quite 
visibly a natural brutality dedicated to God. The 
grey eyes were small and bitter and puffed ; the 
nose was brief, like a burglar’s ; the thick upper 
lip projected and was full of sullen energy ; the 
chin was small, pointed, and contentious. This 
man might easily have been a criminal. Mediaeval 
painters might have taken him for a model of Satan. 
There was no sign of refinement in his features, no 
suggestion of tenderness or sweetness in his ex- 
pression. It was the face of an evil spirit that, by 
116 


VISION OF A SOUL 117 

some miracle, had been wrenched into the service 
of God. 

To add to the strange effect of this coarse and 
powerful face, the voice was hoarse, the pronuncia- 
tion was brutal ; and when he was greatly moved 
the greyness of his skin was suffused with blood, 
his small eyes seemed to close, and his large loose 
mouth writhed with the force of his invective. 

He was telling the drunkard, who lay blinking at 
him in a dazed stupor, that without a doubt his 
soul was in peril of hell. “ Nothing can save you,” 
he cried, “ nothing can save you from the most 
hideous suffering and the most frightful agonies 
but repentance and a cry to Christ. Do you under- 
stand that ? You are drunk, but God has left you 
a corner of comprehension. You can hear me. My 
words reach to your brain. You are neither un- 
conscious nor so drunk that language has no mean- 
ing. Listen, then. If you died at this moment you 
would go to hell. You would go to the place where 
murderers and tyrants and bloodsuckers and devils 
swelter in agony and rot in corruption. Your soul 
would scream in its torture, but it would not desire 
God — you have broken the thread of aspiration 
after holiness that links the soul with God. No, 
you would he writhing in a mass of devilries and 
horrors, burned up by iniquity, and yet existing 


VISION OF A SOUL 


118 

in the throes of indestructible remorse — unconscious 
of Qod. Are you prepared for hell ? Do you know 
what you are laying up for yourself? You have 
rejected heaven, you have cursed Christ, you have 
turned your back on the God Who made you for 
Himself ; but do you know where you are going, 
what you are doing for yourself ? Have you ever 
thought what it means for a soul to live in ever- 
lasting hell ? Don’t deceive yourself. Don’t think 
you will scrape into heaven. Heaven is for the 
pure in heart, for the unselfish, for the holy, for 
those who have loved and served God. No drunkard 
can enter heaven. No vile and beastly thing can 
enter heaven. Heaven is for joy. Filthiness and 
vileness go to hell.” 

He turned and saw me standing in the room. I 
explained the reason of my presence. When he 
had heard me he swung round and bent over the 
drunkard. “ Listen ! Listen ! ” he cried, close to 
the man’s ear. “ Your child died this morning. 
Your wife is now sitting by the corpse. The soul 
of your child is in the presence of God. What did 
you do for that soul ? What did you do for its 
body ? Will that child pray for you in heaven ? 
Will it beseech God for His mercy for you. Your 
child is dead — your child for whom you are re- 
sponsible — and you are drunk ! Where is the other 


VISION OF A SOUL 


119 


child ? where is your little boy ? Do you know ? 
Do you care ? Has he had food this morning ? 
Did you give him breakfast ? Did you say kind 
words to him before he went to school ? Why is 
he not here now ? ” 

He caught the man by the shoulder. “ In the 
Name of Christ, rouse yourself. Rouse yourself, 
drunkard ! Save your soul, you dreadful sot ! 
One of your children is dead ; -the other is in the 
streets — he dare not come home, he is afraid of you , 
and there is nothing to eat. What does God think 
of you ? Rouse yourself. What does God think of 
you ? Die now, and you go to hell. For ever and 
ever you will suffer in hell. Are you prepared for 
that ? Have you counted the cost ? Do you think 
God will have anything to do with such an infamous 
wretch, such a vile and filthy beast as you ? No ! 
No ! You will go to hell. You will bum, you will 
writhe, you will scream, you will try to tear yourself 
in pieces, but you will exist, for ever and ever — for 
ever and ever, with all the devils and swine and 
serpents and worms of hell.” 

I was frightfully shocked by the fury of this implac- 
able priest, and felt a dull sympathy for the offen- 
sive person snorting and sweating on the dirty bed. 
But I could not convince myself that what the priest 
said so violently and dreadfully was untrue. It 


120 


VISION OF A SOUL 


was impossible to imagine that a creature who had 
violated all natural law, who had deliberately 
rejected conscience, and who had chosen a road 
leading in the very opposite direction from love, 
beauty, and self-sacrifice, could ever arrive at the 
same goal to which the saints travel with hunger 
and thirst after righteousness. 

The man said in a low voice, “ I may be bad, 
Father ; I don’t say I’m not ; but whose fault is it ? 
If you had been in my shoes you’d be no different.” 

“ Liar and humbug ! ” cried the priest. “ Liar 
and humbug, as well as drunkard and fool. You 
are lying to God. Do you know that ? Lying to 
God ! You fool, you fool ! Do you think to deceive 
God ? You can’t even deceive yourself. Ask 
yourself now, even in your drunken torpor, whether 
there has ever been a time in your life when you 
didn’t know good from evil ? Why, you know the 
difference now, now in your swinish stupor. Look 
about you, too. Are there no men in this very 
street who started as you started, who have had 
worse luck than you have had, and who are yet good 
fathers, true husbands, and sober, faithful, virtuous 
men ? What is the difference between you and 
them ? This : They have chosen Christ, and you 
have rejected Him. That is why you are going 
down the road of ruin to the hell of everlasting 


VISION OF A SOUL 


121 


wretchedness and remorse. You have rejected 
Christ. You have rejected the one Saviour Who 
can rescue your soul from hell. You don’t want 
Him. You hate Him. You curse His Name, you 
spurn His sacrifice, you spit in His Face. Don’t 
lie to yourself. Don’t whine and prevaricate. You 
are going to hell because you have deliberately 
rejected your means of salvation. No one else has 
had anything to do with it. You yourself, you 
yourself, and only you yourself, have chosen evil 
and rejected Christ.” 

He paused for a moment, watching the surly but 
somewhat terrified face of the drunkard, and then 
in a lower and quieter voice he added : “I have 
warned you. I will say nothing more to you now, 
and I will never warn you again. Sleep off the 
fumes of your drunkenness, and then, when you 
have washed, come to see me if you earnestly and 
truly repent, if you truly and earnestly desire to 
be saved from your sins. I have come to you for 
the last time. Henceforth you must come to me.” 

He made the sign of the Cross over the drunkard, 
and then turning about took me by the arm and 
walked as far as the door. In a lower voice still, 
little more than a whisper, he said to me at a very 
extraordinary pace : 

“ If you think I have spoken too harshly to this 


122 


VISION OF A SOUL 


abandoned wretch, or if you think I spoke too 
violently in the street just now to that miserable 
hypocrite, I can forgive you with all my heart, 
because until this morning I myself should have 
been quite incapable of understanding such denuncia- 
tion. We all talk about God, priests and infidels, 
theologians and philosophers, but how many really 
believe that He exists ? If we really believed 
that He exists, should we dawdle through life, 
should we let sin drag thousands upon thousands 
of souls to perdition, should we content ourselves 
with soft words and pious hopes ? Until this 
morning I have worked hard at my business, but 
without real faith. I have thought my religion 
was true, I have hoped that the scheme of my 
theology represented the truth of things. But this 
morning, while I was at the altar, suddenly, yes, 
all of a sudden and like a flash of lightning which 
dazzles darkness into a brilliance of illumination more 
wonderful than normal light, I knew that God exists. 
I wanted instantly to leave the Blessed Sacrament 
on the altar and rush out into the streets saving 
the lost and warning the indifferent. It was only 
by an immense effort that I could finish my priest’s 
work. And when I came, out from the church I 
felt that my conviction of God’s Reality would soon 
go, that it was only a passing comprehension, a 


VISION OF A SOUL 


123 


transitory uprush of apprehension, and that I 
must use it immediately. But it continues. It is 
stronger now than it was this morning. I know — 
think what that means — I know that God exists. 
Don’t imagine that I am beside myself. Don’t think 
of me as a feverish fanatic. You would be as I am 
now, all men would be as I am now, if they were 
as sure, as overwhelmingly and utterly sure, of 
God’s Reality. But they are not. I was not, till 
early this morning. I do not judge men for that ; 
I have compassion on them ; I remember my own 
darkness and uncertainty. But now that I know 
for certain of God’s Reality I must work as I never 
worked before. Think what it means ! I am sure 
of God’s Reality : nothing in life is more sure to my 
soul : and with this knowledge I see men and women 
on every side of me going to perdition of their own 
deliberate choice — yes, of their own deliberate 
choice, but unwarned. Must I not preach : Repent, 
for the kingdom of heaven is at hand ? Must I not 
cry to mankind that they flee from the wrath to 
come ? ” 

He took my hand. “ Make yourself,” he said, 
“ an active and a burning servant of God. What 
does the world need ? Not scholars and philoso- 
phers, but John Baptist, Christ Jesus, and Paul 
the Apostle ! ” 


124 


VISION OF A SOUL 


In an instant he would have gone, but as he 
stepped to the doorway a couple of young hooligans 
rushed up, excited and wide-eyed. “ Father,” 
they cried, “ there’s more landlords come down ! 
They’re going to pull down the whole blooming 
place. No one will have anywhere to live soon. 
Come and see them, Father. Regular toffs, one of 
’em has a motor-car. They say they’ll pull down 
all the houses — all the blooming lot ! ” 

The priest was puzzled. 4 4 What has happened ? ” 
he asked in a dazed way. 44 What does it 
mean ? Is it something to do with the Land 
Bill ? ” 

I said to him, 44 No ; it’s the same force at work 
that came to you this morning. It acts differently 
on different souls. But it’s the same force.” 

44 1 will go and see,” he cried, and departed 
swiftly with the hooligans. 

I was about to follow him when something . 
checked me. I turned about, hardly knowing what 
I did, and walked over to the bed in the corner of 
the room. The drunkard was lying on his side, his 
knees drawn up, his hands half folded under his 
chin, his eyes full of tears. 

And now I must set down something very difficult 
to tell, something that I shrink from confessing. 
The same force that turned me round at the door 


VISION OF A SOUL 


125 


constrains me, however, to narrate my experience 
at that bedside. 

As I stood there, looking down at the drunkard, I 
suddenly lost all sense of the bed’s filthiness, all 
sense of the drunkard’s horrid clothes, all sense of 
the drunkard’s hideous and repulsive face. Dare 
I say that everything became to me as I think 
everything must have appeared to Christ ? I saw 
only the man's soul. 

I saw something imprisoned and perishing and 
struggling for breath. I saw a captive dying in a 
slow agony, but making faint battle for existence. 
And what I saw was not dark and disgustful, but 
exceedingly sad and wonderfully lovely. 

I stooped down and kissed the drunkard’s cheek. 
I placed my hand upon his head and blessed him. 
I kneeled at his side and, taking both his hands in 
mine, I said to him : 

“God loves you. Even as a father pities his 
children, God loves and pities you. He is only 
waiting for you to turn to Him. God is love. He 
loves you, He yearns for you, and if you turn at 
this moment all heaven will ring with joy, for you 
will be saved from sin. All that you have done, 
all that you now are, will be wiped away. God is 
waiting. The angels are waiting. Your little child 
in heaven is waiting for your salvation. Cry to God, 


126 


VISION OF A SOUL 


Father , I have sinned against heaven and before 
Thee , and am no more worthy to be called Thy son. 
Bow your head and say aloud, God be merciful to me 
a sinner. Do this and you will know that you are 
saved. Sin will have no more dominion over you.” 

He lifted his head, sitting up on the dirty bed, 
looked at me for a long time, and made answer : 
“It’s done. I’m born again. There’s no need to 
cry for mercy now. It’s come already. It came 
when you kissed me.” 

He stood up, perfectly sober and perfectly calm. 
He surveyed his desolate home for a moment, 
looking on every side of him, and then he said : 
“ I’ve got such strength in me as I never had before. 
I’ll make a beginning now.” He took off his coat 
and flung it on the bed. As he rolled up his shirt- 
sleeves he said, “ Come back in half an hour’s time 
and see what I’ve done.” He smiled and gave me 
his hand. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” I asked. 

“ Get dinner for my boy.” 


CHAPTER XII 


CHILDBIRTH 


NURSE in uniform, bright-faced, and really 



•U-*- beautiful with animation, attracted my atten- 
tion as I issued from the narrow alley where the 
father of my dead godchild had just begun to 
build up a new life. 

This charming young creature had crossed the 
road as I entered the main thoroughfare. She was 
standing on the kerb looking to right and left of her 
in evident quest of some by-turning. At her side, 
somewhat timorous and uneasy, was a woman of 
fashion, whose elaborate garments made a vivid 
contrast in the general gloom of this down-at-heel 
neighbourhood. The nurse was perhaps twenty- 
three or twenty-four years of age ; her companion, 
powdered and enamelled, was probably fifty. 

“ I think we must go up this street,” said the 
nurse. 

“But is it safe? It looks dreadful,” said her 
companion. 

“ Can I be of amp service to you ? ” I asked the 


127 


128 


CHILDBIRTH 


nurse, for a desire to make her acquaintance had 
entered my mind at the first sight of her. 

She told me that she was looking for a certain 
court which was not in her district, and that she 
could not determine which way to go. I was unable 
to tell her, but as I looked about a shabby man 
approached and asked where we wanted to go. When 
we told him he said it was up the street I had just 
left, and offered to conduct us to it. The lady at 
once touched my arm and asked me in a low voice 
to go with them on this perilous journey. 

As we walked behind the shabby man, she said to 
me : “ Of course, we all ought to help the poor, but 
really the risks are positively appalling. Not only is 
there danger of violence, for one might be easily 
murdered in these back streets, but the risk of 
contagion is simply enormous. 1 have already 
encountered such odours as would have killed me 
yesterday, and some of the people I have passed in 
the streets must be really swarming with insects. I 
never saw such people. I did not know such 
creatures exist. It is scandalous^ I think, that they 
should be allowed to live in this manner. What the 
medical officers of health have been doing, and the 
inspectors of the County Council, I cannot imagine. 
And it makes one positively despair. That is the 
appalling thing about it. I started out this morning 


CHILDBIRTH 


129 


with the feeling that I had only got to go down to 
the East End to put a stop to all this dreadful class 
hatred which is driving England to ruin. I thought 
I would visit these dear maternity nurses, give them 
enough money to last for a year, make arrangements 
to send two or three hundred poor mothers into the 
country, and then buy a few houses here and there, 
pull them down and set up in their place large and 
cheerful nurseries for the children — I thought I had 
only to do this to show the East End that the West 
End is not indifferent to their sufferings and priva- 
tions. But the East End is endless. It goes on for 
ever and ever. One would have to possess the 
wealth of the world to do anything big enough to 
make an impression. And so one despairs. Frankly, 
I despair. What’s the use ? Why have I come ? 
What can I do ? Only a revolution can save society. 
I’m perfectly certain that if I lived in a place like 
this I should be an anarchist. I should want to 
blow everybody up. Look at those awful women 
glowering at us from the opposite side of the way ! 
I declare they frighten me to death.” 

The nurse assured the voluble fat lady that she was 
perfectly safe, and looking at me with her bright 
engaging smile, she asked if I had come to minister 
to East London. 

“ Everybody,” she said, “ seems to have taken it 

K 


130 


CHILDBIRTH 


into his or her head to pay us a visit. I never saw 
such a lot of respectable people here before ! And 
one of our nurses told me it’s the same in Silvertown 
— landlords have come to inspect their property, 
ladies have appeared with motor-cars to take poor 
people for drives, subscribers to the various missions 
and charities have all turned up at the same moment 
to ask what they can do. It’s a most extraordinary 
thing. And yet, do you know, I had a strange 
feeling this morning ; I really had ; I had a 
feeling that something was going to happen. I felt 
most awfully happy ; unusually cheerful ; I couldn’t 
stop singing while I was dressing. And other nurses 
were just the same. And one of the Sisters, who is 
usually rather grumpy, was quite nice and con- 
siderate. Eve^Hbody seemed happier and kinder. 
But all the same I can’t understand this extra- 
ordinary invasion of the East.” 

I smiled, and said to her : “ Suppose that this 
is what has happened : Everybody in London who 
pretends to be religious or who tries to be religious, 
actually is religious to-day. Wouldn’t that account 
for it ? ” 

“ But,” exclaimed the fashionable lady, “ I for 
one am always religious ! I was confirmed by dear 
Archbishop Benson, and ever since that day I have 
never once had a doubt — hot a single doubt,” 


CHILDBIRTH 


131 


“Do you mean,” the nurse asked me, “that a 
miracle has happened ? ” 

“ He’s absurdly wrong,” said the lady. “ What he 
says amounts to this, that until to-day nobody has 
been religious. What nonsense ! Forgive me for 
saying so, but what nonsense.” 

“ Well, what is your explanation ? ” I inquired. 

“ It’s simply the weather,” she said. “ Everybody 
knows that the weather affects people. One day I 
feel as sweet as an angel, on the next I could snap 
anybody’s nose off. While we are in the flesh we are 
bound to suffer from the temperature of the air and 
the colour of the clouds. We should be angels if we 
were not.” 

“ But,” I said argumentatively, “ there have 
been days quite as fine and cheerful as this.” 

“ Of course there have,” she answered. “ To-day 
is really too warm for the time of year. I find the 
air very oppressive.” 

The nurse laughed, glancing at me with amusement 
as if anxious for my recognition of her quickness to 
see the lady’s foolish position. “ Then, why are you 
here ? ” she inquired, turning to the fat lady and 
raising her eyebrows almost coquettishly. “ And 
why didn’t you come before ? ” 

Puffing and blowing a little, our companion 
replied, “ There was an unusual kindness in the air 


132 


CHILDBIRTH 


this morning. I noticed it directly I woke up. We 
live in Wimbledon, and we have a big garden. As 
soon as I woke, when my maid came with my cup of 
tea, I felt that it would be a pleasure to be kind. 
The sun shone in at the open window ; the birds 
were singing ; I could smell the freshness of the dew. 
I said to my maid, ‘ What a beautiful morning.’ 
And she said, ‘ It is, madam ; and you really ought 
to be out in the garden — it’s like heaven.’ That’s 
what my maid said. Even she felt it.” 

At this point in our conversation we were stopped 
by the shabby man in front of us, who came to a 
halt, and indicated the court for which the nurse was 
searching. I gave him a shilling and he went off 
quickly, muttering a hoarse “ God bless you,” which 
somehow or another did not offend me. 

“ You had better come with us,” said the fat lady. 
“ I’m sure it’s the most awful place I ever saw in 
my life.” 

“ Well, you asked to see the worst kind of suffer- 
ing ! ” said the nurse. 

“ I know, my dear. I did. But I had no idea 
people lived in such hideous and murderous places. 
I thought there was a law for pulling down slums. 
What on earth can the Government be about 
it’s positively criminal to allow such places to stand.” 

We entered this dark, evil-smelling alley, which 


CHILDBIRTH 


133 


was like a passage to mews. It was not easy to 
walk on the cobbles, which were very uneven and 
slippery with grease. The houses were two-story 
high, and stretching my arms across I could quite 
comfortably reach from side to side of the burrow. 
Most of the windows were broken ; in some cases 
the frames were removed altogether. There was 
scarcely a whole door, and one could see that no 
paint had been used anywhere for at least twenty 
years. In truth, it was the most dark, miserable, 
and forbidding place I ever saw in my life. And 
the reek was suffocating. 

For a long time the lady refused to enter the house 
to which the nurse led us after inquiring its where- 
abouts of a slattern in the alley. I do not think she 
would ever have gone in but for her fear of the 
inhuman creatures who came swarming out of 
every broken and greasy doorway to gape at us. 
She rather retreated from this filthy and ragged 
crowd in the alley than entered the house. 

We went up a narrow and vibrating staircase 
without banisters to the floor above. In the room 
at the back, so dark that it was some time before we 
could discern its contents, we found a nurse tending 
a woman who had just given birth to a child. 

If I five to be a hundred I shall never forget that 
room. The nurse had scrubbed it and disinfected it, 


134 


CHILDBIRTH 


but even thus cleansed it was appalling in its savage 
horror. It was like the lair of some hideous animal. 
In a corner by the smashed window the woman who 
had just produced a human being lay on a couple of 
sacks, groaning and mumbling. The baby lay on 
the floor wrapped in a roll of flannel. On the opposite 
side of the room was a group of five little children 
all but naked, and the eldest of them was nursing a 
baby ten months old. The faces of these children 
were caked with dirt, their hair was matted, their 
bones were showing through the skin. Three of these 
unfortunate little creatures had their mouths buried 
in sores. 

“ Oh, my God, my dear, dear God ! ” exclaimed 
the fat lady, almost hysterically, as she realised the 
scene. She ran to the mother and knelt beside the 
nurse. “ Oh, send for some clothes, send for a bed ; 
oh, oh, oh ! don’t let her he like that ! I can’t bear 
it. I can’t bear it ! Don’t let a minute go by. 
Send someone at once. A bed, a bed ; she must 
have a bed. Look, she’s nearly naked. And the 
poor little baby ! Is there no fire ? — not even a 
fireplace ! Oh, my God, my God, was there ever 
such wickedness ! ” 

It was with difficulty the two nurses induced her 
to be quiet, and even then she could not be stopped 
from such a flow of tears as quite unma^aied me. 


CHILDBIRTH 


135 


I took her hand, and begged her not to cry. I 
pointed to the children and implored her to take 
charge of them — hoping that this would distract her 
grief. But she cried out that it was no use, no use. 
She said it was like this everywhere — thousands, 
thousands, millions of children just like these. 
What could one person do ? Why did God allow 
it ? What was the Government about ? And so on, 
till the nurses had to speak sharply to her. 

At last she became really useful and practical. 
She sent one of the children for a neighbour, and 
gave orders for a mattress and blankets to be brought 
at once. She then made arrangements for the 
children to be taken to some public baths, to be 
supplied with clothes, and then to be sent to the 
Maternity House in a cab. She undertook to remove 
all these children to the country. Finally she 
despatched a neighbour to a baker, and when the 
tradesman arrived she gave him orders to supply 
the whole alley with all the bread it needed for a 
week. 

She told me that she intended to buy that alley ; 
to pull down the houses, and erect a single hotel 
where families could live in decency and get all 
their meals at cost price. “ As for this poor dear 
little baby,” she concluded, “ I shall certainly 
adopt it. I feel that I owe everything to the poor 


136 


CHILDBIRTH 


mite. It was not until I saw it that my heart gave 
itself to God. I will never, never, never think of 
myself again. I am converted. I am born again. I 
will think of other people, I will work for them, 
toil for them, love them. And it’s all owing to this 
sweet little baby. Oh, look at the poor dear little 
creature ! God sent it into the world to break my 
heart and save my soul.” 

She took off the feather boa and the jacket she 
was wearing, and kneeling down on the floor beside 
the baby, began to cover it with these things. 

Then she turned to the mother, and said : “ Don’t 
groan, poor soul, don’t groan. Have a little patience, 
und as soon as ever the doctor will let me I’ll carry 
you to Wimbledon. You shall he on a couch in the 
garden, and we’ll nurse you to health and strength, 
and you shall never live in a slum any more.” 

There was no longer any need for me to stay ag 
protector, and taking leave of this good soul and 
the two nurses I departed for the outer world. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 

rpHE aspect of the dark court as I ipade my exit 
was remarkable. The dishevelled and slatternly 
women were no longer repulsive ; their faces had a 
light of happiness which chased away the brutality 
of their features ; some of them, indeed, seemed to 
me as handsome as Roman matrons. Instead of 
standing in their doorways gloomy and forbidding, 
they now occupied the centre of the narrow street, 
filhng it with animation and contagious happiness. 
The children were laughing and speaking to each 
other with excitement. The very houses appeared 
less dreadful. 

I made my way through this crowd of the under- 
world with no little difficulty. My hands were 
seized. I was blessed a dozen times. I was asked 
a hundred questions. Every one of those women 
knew that something had happened which broke 
up the monotony of their destitution and refreshed 
the sullen atmosphere of their fives with the breath 
137 


138 THE TWO HOOLIGANS 

of hope. The response of their souls was extra- 
ordinary. 

In what direction I was walking and for what pur- 
pose, I had no idea. It was as though some invisible 
power directed me. I walked through the most 
sorrowful streets in London, crossed main roads, 
penetrated courts and alleys, followed canals as 
ugly and pestiferous as anything in Venice, entered 
tiny squares formed of factories and tenements, and 
passed through long dark, narrow streets composed 
almost entirely of public-houses, lodgings, and rag- 
and-bone shops. 

My mind was entirely occupied with the sights I 
saw. I did not think of the miracle. Although 
aware subconsciously of the same strange elation, 
the same deep sense of pervasive happiness which 
had come to me at dawn, I walked for an hour 
through the streets of East London thinking solely 
of the spectacle presented to my observation. I saw 
people who made me shudder. I saw streets that 
filled me with disgust. I saw children whose misery 
and deprivation startled and frightened and wounded 
me. Again and again I exclaimed to myself, “ How 
have these things come to be ? How is it that men 
have allowed this misery and wretchedness to come 
into being ? Why is it that they allow such things 
to exist ? ” 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


139 


And I felt the immense folly of expecting virtue 
to exist in such an environment, even the most 
primitive virtue of savages. I acknowledged to 
myself that if I had been born in such streets, if I 
had been subjected to such an atmosphere, I should 
have been not merely a brute, but an anarchist. 
Even as I walked there, conscious always of happi- 
ness and elation, my mind clamoured for violence — 
for some action that would blow these filthy sties 
into ruin and sweep their wretched inhabitants into 
the mercy of eternity. I had never known before 
the uttermost depths of the abyss. 

My observation was suddenly attracted by two 
young hooligans walking ahead of me with guilty 
caution and with purposeful haste. They glanced 
back at me apprehensively, looked up courts and 
side streets as they hurried forward, and whispered 
together in a confidence that was obviously criminal. 
Struck by their behaviour, I gradually lost interest 
in my surroundings and concentrated all my atten- 
tion on these two men. 

Presently I saw that they were evidently dogging 
the footsteps of an old man carrying a bag in front 
of them. When they were within thirty yards 01 
this shuffling figure, they walked more slowly and 
assumed an air of loafing idleness. They continually 
stopped, as though in two minds as to whether they 


140 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


should let me go past them. My presence was 
plainly a vexation. They even attempted to in- 
timidate me by ferocious glances. 

I was near enough now to study them. Both were 
of the same height, much below the average, but 
the build and faces were entirely different. One 
man was thickset, heavy-shouldered, and rather 
bow-legged ; the other was light-limbed, bony, and 
thin. The face of the thickset man was fat and 
puffy, of a dough-like complexion, with full lips, 
small eyes, a short snub nose, and ears that projected 
from the head. The other man was grey-faced, 
with cavernous cheeks, a long, thin, cunning mouth, 
a lean pinched aquiline nose, and eyes that were 
large and energetic in their cruelty. It struck me as 
a frightful fact that civilisation produces creatures 
of their evil kind by hundreds of thousands. 

They soon perceived that I was definitely following 
them, and after a whispered conversation just ahead 
of me, they suddenly wheeled round and stood 
straight in my path. I did not move to get out of 
their way. 

“ Take a tip from me, guvnor,” said one, “ and 
get out of this part quick ; it’s not safe for the likes 
of you.” 

“ There’s fellows about here,” said the other, 
“ who’d think nothing of murdering a gentle- 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 141 

man for what he might chance to have about 
him.” 

“ Take this turning to your left,” said the other, 
“ and you’ll come into a decent street in less than 
ten minutes.” 

I said to them, “ But what about the old man 
in front ? ” 

“ What old man ? ” they demanded, almost 
together, turning round to look in a clumsily feigned 
surprise. Then one of them laughed. “Why, he 
means poor old Daddy Green,” said one ; “ poor 
old Daddy Green, the Scripture Reader ! ” 

“ ^hat about him ? ” demanded the other. 

I looked this man in the face — it was the thickset 
pasty-faced one — and said to him, with the earnest- 
ness of a schoolmaster struggling to make a stupid 
boy understand a simple fact : “ God exists. 

There is a heaven and there is a hell. The good go 
into heaven. The bad go into hell. God waits to 
give eternal happiness to those who choose goodness 
and reject badness. He does not send people to hell. 
People go there of their own choice. Murderers go 
to hell. Thieves go to hell. They go there because 
they deliberately reject good. All cruel and cowardly 
and brutal souls go to hell.” 

He stared at me with a torpid perplexity, and said 
nothing. The other man, however, manifesting 


142 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


great impatience, said quickly : “ What are you 
getting at with your heaven and hell ? Do you 
think we aren’t converted ? Why, we go to the 
Mission in Ditch Lane twice a week ! I was con- 
verted six months ago, and Bill has been a Christian 
more than two years.” 

“ Certainly I have,” said Bill. 

“ Well, then,” I answered, “ we’ll walk together. 
I shall be safe with you. And we three will overtake 
that old man and have a talk with him.” 

“ You’d better go back, guvnor,” said Bill. “ Take 
my word for it, it isn’t safe for you up here.” 

“ What ! ” I exclaimed, “ not safe for me with 
two Christians ? ” 

The thin man came suddenly quite close to me, and 
said, “ Look here, if you don’t go back I’ll give you 
a punch in the nose.” He used savage language to 
make the threat more terrible. 

I looked at him, and said: “Don’t hit me, for 
your own sake. I shan’t strike you back. I shall 
do nothing to punish you. But don’t hit me for 
your own sake. Every cruel blow is punished. 
You will suffer terribly.” 

He clenched his fist and raised it to the level of 
my face. “ You see that fist,” he said viciously. 
Then he pressed it against my mouth. “ As sure as 
God made you,” he said, between his teeth, “ I’ll 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


143 


smash your face for you if you don’t go back. Now, 
will you go, or will you take it ? ” 

As he spoke an almost irresistible impulse to 
knock him down visited my mind. I felt neither 
fear nor anxiety. The uppermost feeling in my mind 
was one of loathing and contempt. I never so much 
wanted to inflict pain. 

“ Wait a bit,” said the other man. “ Look here, 
guvnor,” he continued, pushing his companion on 
one side, “ you give us a couple of sovereigns and 
we’ll go back the way we came. How’s that for 
fair ? ” 

I said to him : “ My money is for the poor and 
suffering. For you two unhappy souls, going straight 
to the everlasting misery of hell, I have nothing but 
warnings and entreaties. Why ! ” I exclaimed, 
with sudden energy which startled them, “ don’t 
you see for yourselves that you are defying the 
great eternal God Who made you ? Don’t you see 
that now at this very moment there is murder in 
your souls ? What can happen to you, what can 
possibly happen to you, after death ? Murderers 
go to hell . Think, think , what that means ! When you 
die your souls will be a million times more miserable 
and wretched than anything on this earth. You 
will be everlastingly — for ever and ever, for ever and 
ever — unhappy. Dare you face such a risk ? Have 


144 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


you thought it out ? You know what it is to be 
unhappy now. But you have hope — you hope for 
money, for drink, for success in your crimes. But 
in hell you will be unhappy for ever, and hopelessly 
unhappy. Hopelessly unhappy ! Unhappy for 
ever and ever, and without hope of anything to lift 
the crushing load of your unhappiness. Why do 
you choose, of your own free will, such a hideous 
destiny ? Why do you deliberately choose it ? ” 

They were evidently struck by these words. The 
thickset man never took his eyes from my face, and 
when I finished he continued to stare at me in the 
same manner of dull struggling interest. Even the 
more active-minded, more remorseless man was 
struck by what I said. He put his hands in his 
pockets, glanced about him with uncertainty, and 
then said to his mate, “ Come on, Bill, I’m going to 
get out of this.” 

But the other said : “ Look here, guvnor, what’s 
a man like me to do ? I must live, mustn’t I ? I’ve 
got to have food and drink, haven’t I ? Well, what 
about it ? There’s no work here for me. I can’t 
earn nothing. So what am I to do ? A man must 
live, mustn’t he ? ” 

The other man, who had moved rather impatiently 
away, came back swiftly and fiercely, and said to me, 
with a torrent of bad language : “ Your God don’t 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


145 


provide meat and drink for us, and don’t do nothing 

to show that He cares a for us. Why should 

we care for Him ? Let Him do what He likes. Do 
you think I’m afraid of Him ? I fear neither God 
nor Devil. If I saw God down here, do you know 
how I’d serve Him ? Like this ! ” 

He hit me a hard and sudden blow between the 
eyes. 

For a moment or two I was more or less stunned, 
and reeled back against a wall. When I recovered 
myself, I saw that the men had gone. A woman 
standing in a doorway on the opposite side of the 
road was looking at me. She said, “ They went up 
there,” nodding in the direction which the old man 
had been following. Then she said, “ They’re 
terrible bad men, those two ; you’d better leave 
them alone.” 

I thanked her for this advice, but said I was not 
afraid of them, and continued my way. 

The road presently curved away to the left, and 
ran beside a narrow canal with dreadful houses on 
either side of it. The dirty water was littered with 
refuse. The dark houses seemed so rotten and 
mildewed that one expected them every moment to 
fall into ruin. At a few of the doorways shabby men 
were standing in groups, and from some of the upper 
windows women barely dressed and with their hair 


L 


146 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


hanging about their unwashed faces, were leaning 
with a lugubrious interest in the world below. 

My presence in this frightful place created excite- 
ment. I was aware of angry looks and mocking 
remarks as I walked forward. Even the ragged 
children shouted after me. One or two boys got in 
front of me and made offensive gestures. 

For a few minutes, passing through this evil 
neighbourhood, I was really overwhelmed by despair. 
I felt that human life had got itself tangled into 
inextricable misery. I felt that neither religion nor 
politics could save humanity from the confusion of 
old neglect. 

My happiness came back to me as I left the canal 
behind me, and turned into a lane which ran between 
the high walls of a railway embankment and a 
warehouse. A cool breeze blew down this forsaken 
lane, and the absence of depressed humanity made 
it almost cheerful. 

At a curve in this alley, I came with startling 
suddenness on the crime I had anticipated. The 
old man, white as chalk, with a trickle of scarlet 
blood on his forehead, lay against the wall of the 
embankment. His eyes were raised to heaven. His 
hands were clasped. He kept crying out in a weak 
voice, “ Think of your souls. Save your souls. God 
forgive them. Christ forgive them. 0 God, forgive 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


147 


them ! ” And one of the men was searching the bag 
he had been carrying, and the other was feeling in his 
clothes. 

Just as I came up, the old man seized the arms of 
the man who was rifling his pockets, and cried out 
almost loudly : “ My death is nothing to me. I 
am glad to go. But think of your soul. For Christ’s 
sake, think of your soul. Repent while there is time. 
I did not resist you. I do not resist you now. I 
make no cry for help. But with my dying breath I 
pray God to forgive you. I beseech you to repent. 
Save your soul. Save your soul.” 

I sprang forward, and the two men got up and 
faced me. The one with the bag waited till I was 
within six paces of him, and then hurled the bag full 
in my face, so that I stumbled and was blinded by 
the blow. When I righted myself they were out of 
sight. 

I devoted myself to the old man. While I was 
bending over him a policeman’s whistle was blown 
in the distance, and after a few minutes two con- 
stables made their appearance, running towards us. 
It appeared that the hooligans in running away had 
rushed straight into the arms of a policeman, that 
he had tried to hold them, suspecting something 
wrong, and had been cut down by their belts. They 
had escaped, and the whistle of the wounded 


148 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


policeman had brought the other two constables 
upon the scene. 

The old man, it turned out, was a rent-collector 
and a speculator on his own account in slum pro- 
perty. For some years he had been known as a 
miser, but just lately he had created excitement in 
the neighbourhood by manifesting a real interest in 
the souls of the people. He had given away money ; 
he had set up one or two lodging-houses for men and 
women ; and he had taken an active share in the 
work of a Wesleyan Mission. 

I gave an account of the occurrence to the police 
inspector at the station, and paid a visit to the 
hospital where the poor old man had been carried. 
As I was leaving, the nurse who had conducted me 
to the ward — a singularly effective and efficient 
person — said to me : “ It’s a strange thing that 
such a dreadful crime should be committed on a 
day when everything seems to be changing for the 
better.” 

“ Is it changing for the better ? ” I inquired, 
turning to look at her. 

“Oh, the most extraordinary things are happen- 
ing,” she continued eagerly. “It is not only that 
we have had hundreds of visitors offering all kinds 
of help and assistance, but the employers in the 
neighbourhood are really going to do things for the 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


149 


people. One of the factories took a vote first thing 
this morning as to whether the workers would go 
into the country if they moved their premises and 
built cottages with gardens. Two other large 
employers just round the corner have announced a 
dse in wages. Several of the landlords, so they 
say, are making arrangements for pulling down 
their property and building decent houses. The 
whole thing is bewildering and amazing. Of course, 
it’s only what people ought to do, but it’s so strange 
that it should happen so suddenly. And you’d be 
surprised at the change in the wards. The patients 
seem to be interested in religion, and are talking to- 
gether about the spiritual life. One of the old men 
in my ward said this morning that if all who believe 
in Christianity lived as if they knew it to be true, 
there ’d be no misery in the world and no need for 
politics ; and do you know that when he said that, 
I felt it to be so perfectly true that I could not help 
starting a hymn, and we all sang it together, although 
it’s against the rules ! But don’t you think it would 
be almost millennium if every single person who 
professes Christianity really lived his whole life as 
if he believed it were true ? ” 

She spoke these last words without any particular 
emphasis, but as she uttered them they struck me 
suddenly as an inspiration. 


150 


THE TWO HOOLIGANS 


I looked into her capable kind face that was 
bright with humanity and motherliness and cheerful 
happiness. “ Perhaps that is what is happening 
now,” I said to her ; “ perhaps every single person 
in London who professes Christianity is living 
to-day as if he believed it to be true.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she smiled, giving me her hand. “ If 
that were so, it would be the millennium ! ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 
HEN I came out from the hospital it was past 



* * two o’clock. The first thing to catch my 
eye in the street was a newspaper placard, which 
asked the question — “ What’s Up With The 
World ? ” The boy who carried it was running 
along the gutter, crying out as he went in a hoarse 
voice, mechanically, monotonously, and miserably, 
“ Happy times ! Happy times ! ” 

The street was crowded with people. They stood 
about in groups, laughing and talking. Here and 
there a man was telling something he had heard, 
or reading aloud from a newspaper. Women, 
carrying babies in their arms, walked quickly along 
the pavements speaking together with the excite- 
ment of something rare and wonderful in gossip. 
I noticed that the public-houses were packed and 
noisy. 

I wondered what the newspapers had to say about 
this miracle, and bought a copy of the Star at the 


151 


152 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


next corner. As I walked I opened it and glanced 
at the head-lines. Readers were informed that the 
first Spring weather had quickened the natural 
philanthropy of the human heart, and that every- 
where society was seeking to establish a better 
condition of things. A long account followed of 
what was being done. The invasion of the East by 
the West in motor-cars and carriages was described 
rather humorously and lightly under the title 
“ A New Craze.” More serious attention was given 
to the activity manifested by charitable agencies. 
Then, very hastily, as if the news had only just 
come through, came the announcement of wages 
voluntarily raised by several of the largest firms in 
London. I was folding up the paper when the space 
reserved for Stop-press Telegrams caught my eye. 
A small paragraph was set out in leaded type in 
the centre of this space, with the heading, “Is It 
Millennium ? ” I read below that news had just 
been received of similar activity in philanthropy 
from Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, and 
Bristol. 

I asked myself, “ How will they explain it ? ” 
Then the question occurred to my mind, “ Am I 
the only man who knows ? ” 

This startling question was followed by the first 
definite movement in my mind towards contempla- 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


153 


tion of my spiritual position. I shrank at first 
from the idea, but I could not be rid of it. In 
some mysterious way I had been warned. In 
some miraculous manner I knew why this thing was 
happening. Heaven had chosen me for illumina- 
tion. To me, and probably to me alone, the angels 
had whispered a secret of God. I was sensible for a 
moment of appalling isolation. 

For a moment I shuddered and shivered with a 
deadly cold. I was isolated. I was different. I 
longed to recover my common humanity. I hated 
to be bereft of the general ignorance. I felt myself, 
in the atmosphere of the spiritual world, to be 
an alien without kinsman or companion. This 
isolation was intolerable. 

But was I really the only man who knew ? I 
sprang towards the hope that others infinitely 
more worthy must have been warned. To escape 
from my feeling of isolation I hastened my paces 
and got into the first cab I could find. I told the 
man to drive westwards, thinking that I would call 
upon one of my acquaintances, a certain clergyman 
famous alike for his scholarly mysticism and his 
ascetic charitable fife. As the cab proceeded through 
the City I remembered that I was to dine that even- 
ing with the Bishop of Brompton. I wondered 
if he would tell me that he knew. I wondered if 


154 THE OPEN HEAVENS 

any of the other guests would tell us that they 
knew. 

The cab reached the Embankment before I 
recalled the fact of that afternoon’s debate in the 
House of Commons. A member of the Opposition 
was to move a vote of censure. All the violent, 
disorderly, and most dangerous efforts of the 
Opposition to force a dissolution had failed, and 
to-day there was to be an orthodox but remorseless 
attack upon the Government’s central position. 
The mover of the vote of censure, I had been told, 
intended to whip the Ministry into such a passion 
that the day might very well culminate in actual 
disorder. 

I leaned from the window-space of my cab 
and told the man to drive me to the House of 
Commons. . . . 

One of my friends took me into the Members’ 
Lobby, which was thronged with a cheerful company 
and which echoed loudly with the buzz of conversa- 
tion. I began to feel for the first time that day 
the cravings of hunger. We made our way through 
the dense crowd to one of the refreshment-bars, 
and while I ate and drank my friend spoke to me 
about the strange events of the day. 

“ You know how it has happened, I suppose ? ” 
he asked, smiling disdainfully. My friend was a 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


155 


Liberal. We had been speaking of the wave of 
philanthropy. 

“ Tell me ? ” I asked. 

“It’s all a part of the stratagem which has 
worked for this vote of censure. Society has been 
secretly preparing for a sudden demonstration of 
love and charity. Oh, most clever ! Democracy, 
carried off its feet by such amazing friendliness and 
goodwill, is to rise up at the call of the Opposition 
and fling out of office a Ministry whose one occupa- 
tion and purpose, of course, is to set class against 
class. The secret has been wonderfully well kept. 
I heard nothing of it till noon to-day, and none of 
our men, so far as I can ascertain, had the least 
idea of such a coup de main. But I don’t think it 
will be very successful. Of course, we shall be told 
that we are the sowers of discord, and that but for 
us capital and labour would pull cheerfully in 
double harness. Oh, yes, the Tories will pitch it 
pretty strong. But democracy is not likely to be 
dazzled by this gigantic pantomime of generosity. 
The thing is too vulgarly flamboyant.” 

Another member came up to us. “ Have you 
heard the latest ? ” he asked. “ All the Welsh col- 
lieries are going to adopt Co-partnership ! Williams 
has just told me. It’s a tremendous move. No one 
knew anything about it. No one had seriously 


156 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


suggested it. But, by Jove, this morning one of the 
owners, a religious enthusiast, went calling on 
other proprietors, put the idea before them, got a 
majority on his side, and a meeting to discuss it 
is to take place next week. Williams says it will 
revolutionise the industry.” 

Someone who had been listening to this state- 
ment, a Conservative, said to my friend : “ It 

doesn’t really want an Act of Parliament to set 
things right, does it ? Just a little ordinary common 
sense and a little ordinary kindness.” 

My friend laughed. “ Oh, it’s tremendously 
clever,” he said cheerfully. “ I applaud the scheme 
heartily.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the Conservative, 
puzzled. “ I don’t understand. What is the scheme 
you applaud ? ” 

The other member said to my friend, “ You’re 
quite wrong. I don’t believe the thing is put up at 
all.” 

The Conservative said, “ Put up ! What on 
earth do you mean ? ” 

My friend laughed again and moved away. “ We 
shall hear all about it in the House. But it’s clever, 
really clever ! ” 

The other man said something quickly and con- 
fidentially to the Conservative. I was just in time 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


157 


to catch a flash of genuine incredulity on the face 
of the latter, and to hear his exclamation, “ How 
preposterous ! ” 

As we walked across the Lobby my friend said to 
me : “ Any fool could see through it. And there’s 
no other explanation. Besides, the thing has been 
specially reserved for to-day. Love in the streets 
and fury in the House ! The papers to-morrow 
will declare that we alone are the one obstacle in 
the way of Millennium. You’ll hear a speech in a 
few moments that will freeze your blood with 
horror ! . . 

When I took my seat the House was filling up. 
The galleries behind me were full. The Peers were 
not present in such force as I had expected. I 
discovered afterwards that most of the absentees 
were in conference with their agents or with the 
chief charitable agencies of London, concerning 
social betterment. Among my neighbours were the 
French and American Ambassadors, Prince Koltov- 
sky, Aubrey Trenchard, and Sir Edgar Wilkinson. 
Everyone about me seemed to be expecting an 
amusing rather than a great or historic scene. 

There was evidently much more excitement on 
the Conservative benches than on the opposite side 
of the House. The Liberals sat rather silently and 
squarely. The Conservatives were leaning forward 


158 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


and leaning back, standing up and moving here and 
there, talking, laughing, smiling, with the confident 
anticipation of a great victory. I noticed, however, 
that among the group who had become notorious 
for the violence of their tactics, a leading man sat 
very silent, and very white, and very still. 

At the conclusion of questions there was a great 
ovation for the mover of the vote, who came 
into the House slowly and nervously from behind 
the Speaker’s chair, followed by four of his col- 
leagues, talking together with some excitement. 
I saw one of these colleagues lean back from the 
front bench and speak to a man behind him, who 
visibly started. Then another of the front-bench 
men went down the House and spoke to the 
group of violent young Tories. Something had 
evidently occurred. An extraordinary hush fell 
upon the Chamber. And in this hush one could see 
the crowded Conservatives whispering together with 
amazement and stupefaction. A certain alertness 
seemed to manifest itself among the watchful 
Liberals, and some of the Labour men began to laugh 
and talk rather loudly. 

As long as I live I shall never forget the speech 
of the mover of the vote. I must confess that 
until that day I had entirely misjudged him. 
It had seemed to me. in the first place, that he was 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


159 


a very commonplace example of the British plebeian 
— a man who had absorbed knowledge without 
discretion, who had acquired culture without charm, 
who had climbed the ladder of fortune without 
mounting to the heights of life. I detested the 
coarseness of his invective. I hated the violence 
to which he so readily lent his countenance. I 
thought of him only as a demagogue who had risen 
by the force of vulgar audacity and butcher-like 
brutality to a leadership of most painful political 
mediocrity. It had been one of the chief distresses of 
my mind that such a man in such a perilous condition 
of society should occupy a leading place in a party 
supposed to represent the upper classes of the 
community. I had often asked myself what would 
have been the feelings of Mr. Gladstone facing such 
an adversary, and the feelings of Disraeli ac- 
knowledging such a henchman. 

But almost from the first sentence of his speech 
that afternoon I realised my misjudgment. The 
man hitherto had misrepresented himself. He did 
not budge an inch from his devotion to the principles 
of his party, he alluded with the most convincing 
sincerity, almost with a religious enthusiasm, to 
the Imperial advantages of Tariff Reform, and he 
condemned with unequivocating earnestness both 
the Home Rule Bill and the Bill for Welsh Dis- 


160 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


establishment. But who that heard that speech 
can ever forget the lofty tone of its most winning 
and persuasive patriotism ? Who that has read 
that speech can fail to be touched by the largeness 
of its charity and the earnestness of its humanity ? 
He spoke for over an hour. For over an hour, 
without one trace of bitterness in his voice, without 
one harsh word, without one vulgar phrase, without 
one gesture of anger or scorn, he spoke for the safety 
and honour of the King’s dominions and for the 
welfare of humanity. It was not merely the speech 
of a great statesman, it was the utterance of a 
sincere Christian. 

Instead of an attack upon the Government, this 
speech came really to an offer of collaboration, a 
proposal for alliance. He said that the condition 
of society was too serious for party conflict. He 
disclaimed the least desire to make political profit 
out of the world’s unrest. He declared that his 
party was willing to co-operate with the Govern- 
ment — and to remain for ever in the humble position 
of helpful friendly critics — in any work that would 
save civilisation from revolution. When he spoke 
of life in its ultimate analysis as a spiritual experi- 
ence his voice shook, and for some moments he 
was on the point of breaking down. It was only by 
a great effort that he regained self-mastery and 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


161 


proceeded with his argument. I remember the 
strange tense feeling of the atmosphere as he said : 
“ Let us forget self-interest and look at the life of 
this great country, not as gamblers confronting 
each other across a gaming-table, not as vultures 
wheeling over the body of a dying lion, but as 
doctors met together in consultation, as bishops 
called by a High Power to be the faithful shepherds 
of a not ignoble flock. How can we help England ? 
What can we do to render the life of England glorious 
and beneficent ? Let us ask ourselves those ques- 
tions, mindful of our tremendous responsibility > 
and we shall surely find that our discussions will 
lose the bitterness and the unprofitable contention 
which for too long have characterised party strife, 
and that our Acts of Parliament will become no 
mere blundering strokes of party tactics, but 
weighed and certain blessings for the nation we 
are here to serve.” 

One felt as he was speaking that now for the first 
time in modern history the House of Commons 
represented the soul and conscience of England. 
The cheers that greeted him were general. There 
was no irony, but a genuine gratitude, in the cheers 
of the Labour Party. He spoke about the shame 
and reproach of slums, he spoke of the awful sin of 
permitting children to live for one hour in sur- 

M 


162 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


roundings so deadly to virtue that they might have 
had Satan for their architect, and he spoke of the 
abominable condition which forced honest men 
temporarily driven out of work to seek the grudging 
shelter of our disgraceful workhouses. And when 
he said, “ Surely if we seriously address ourselves 
to setting right these inhumanities, these bar- 
barisms, these immoralities so shameful to our 
religion and so costly to our peace, surely we shall 
not fail to do something for which posterity will 
thank us,” when he said this, Liberals, Labour men, 
and Irishmen rose to their feet and cheered. And 
even when he exclaimed, “ Ah, but you prefer to 
meddle with the Constitution and to harass the 
Church ! ” the tone was so genuine and so reproach- 
ful — without the smallest trace of snarl or vehemence 
— that there was no answering shout from the 
Government benches. 

Indeed, I verily believe that every single man in 
the House of Commons at that moment felt how 
utterly unimportant and insignificant were the 
Government’s chief measures in comparison with 
the great human reforms for which this democratic 
and plebeian lieutenant of Toryism had made so 
moving and so earnest an appeal. He lifted the 
House above the dust of party controversy. One 
seemed to see as he was speaking the vast far- 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


163 


spreading slums of our industrial cities, the destitu- 
tion of their children, the depravity of their in- 
habitations, the huge black sullen army of the joy- 
less workers ; one seemed to be aware of human 
unhappiness, human ill-health, human degradation, 
and human waste. In comparison with these most 
shocking and most perilous things, the national 
demand of Ireland and of Wales seemed quite 
trivial and commonplace. Almost every man in 
the House of Commons was moved that day to a 
patriotism worthy of spiritual beings. 

Aubrey Trenchard said to me at the conclusion 
of this wonderful speech, “ He has erased the word 
Opposition from our political dictionary.” 

The French Ambassador whispered in my ear, 
“ There will be a Tariff pretty soon ! ” 

After the Prime Minister had made his brief and 
cordial reply to this overture of the Conservative 
Party I went with Aubrey Trenchard to the Lobby. 

“ What do you think this all means ? ” I asked 
him. 

“ It means, my dear fellow,” he replied, “ that 
people are coming to their senses. By a happy 
chance several important people have come to their 
senses at the same time. Hence, Millennium appears 
on the horizon.” 

“ But this extraordinary speech ? ” 


104 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


“ Why is it extraordinary ? I know a dozen 
men who have been making speeches like that for 
fifteen or twenty years. Isn’t it what we all feel ? 
— isn’t it what we all know to be true ? Take the 
term Opposition : could anything be more childish ? 
The duty of the Opposition is to oppose. How pitiful ! 
And now one of the leaders of the Conservative 
Party has had the wit to realise the danger of this 
monstrous doctrine, and we are all surprised. Of 
course, surprise is natural. One does not expect 
truth in politicians. But, after all, nothing has 
been said to-day that you and I have not preached 
in the serener and more honest atmosphere of 
literature for years and years.” 

“ So you think it is only a coincidence — this 
speech synchronising with all the sudden philan- 
thropy outside ? ” 

“ What else can it be ? ” he demanded, 

“ You have no faith in miracles ? ” 

“ How can it be a miracle ? ” 

“ How can it be anything else ? ” I asked. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “ It seems to me 
really quite simple,” he said. “ For ten or twelve 
years hundreds of men have taught that Co-partner- 
ship is the one way out of our industrial confusion. 
Well, a few firms have apparently come to the 
conclusion to give the system a trial. They have 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


165 


been thinking it over for years. Their decision is 
taken on the same day. Probably they had all 
discussed the matter together, and had agreed to 
act together. Then you have the visits of several 
rich people to the East End. Well, hundreds 
of people have been doing that for at least 
twenty years. Every day new people have been 
going to see what they could do for the poor. 
It happens that to-day a great many have 
gone.” 

I told him what I had seen for myself. 

He was surprised and interested. 

“Is it really so general as that ? ” 

I assured him that it was a veritable revolution. 

For a moment he did not reply. Then with a 
smile he said to me : “ We know very little about 
the sun. I believe with the ancients that sun and 
moon can do almost anything. Our minds are the 
instruments of the sun’s vibrations. He shines, 
and we are happy. He hides himself, and we are 
dull. He gets above us, beats straight down upon 
us, and we go mad. I noticed to-day that his rays 
were of a singularly genial nature.” 

My friend the Liberal came up to us and carried 
me away to the smoking-room. We found a quiet 
corner, and when he had lighted a cigarette he 
asked me if I saw through “ the Tory dodge.” 


166 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


“ Do you mean to tell me,” I asked him, “ that 
that speech was not genuine ? ” 

He smiled as he turned to look at me. “ Genuine ! ” 
he exclaimed. “ You don’t really think that ? ” 

I was on the point of telling him what I knew 
when something checked me — perhaps only what 
we call “ second thoughts,” perhaps an invisible 
agency. Whatever it was, I felt that my secret 
was sacred, I shrank from profaning it. 

My friend said to me : “ The Tories have dis- 
covered that violence does not pay. They are 
making an effort to capture democracy by kindness. 
I admit the speech took me by surprise. I admit 
that it sounded genuine. But it is perfectly evident 
that both speech and all this orgy of philanthropy 
outside are part of the same clever stratagem. 
The Tories have got the mania that ruined Ireland 
— the mania for secret societies. They have been 
for the last five years a body of secret societies. 
They plotted Tariff Reform. They plotted Arthur 
Balfour’s expulsion. They plotted Ulster Rebellion. 
And now they are plotting to capture democracy. 
Everything they do is underhand, secret, startling, 
and full of surprise. They are Fenians from War- 
dour Street.” 

The smoking-room began to fill. Men were 
talking excitedly. I noticed that the two parties 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


167 


did not mix together so freely as usual. The Tories 
grouped themselves together and were evidently 
in dead earnest. The Liberals laughed and chatted 
with the greatest good-humour. A couple of Labour 
men close to our lounge were writing out telegrams 
and comparing them. 

Three Liberals came and joined us. Two of 
them believed that the speech was genuine. The 
third shared the view of my friend. The discussion 
was animated. 

One of the two men who believed in the genuine- 
ness of the Tory overture, a young and very able 
man supposed to be interested in Christian Socialism, 
asked me for a casting vote in the controversy. 
“We are two and two,” he said, “you shall decide.” 

“ I believe,” was my reply, “ that no more 
genuine speech has ever been made in the House of 
Commons.” 

“ But why ? What makes you think so ? ” 
demanded my friend impatiently. 

“ Because,” I answered, “ the speech was common 
sense.” 

The young man who had appealed to me turned 
excitedly to my friend and said : “ That’s the true 
answer. The speech expressed common sense. 
Why must you always be looking for plots and 
mysteries ? The Tories have dabbled in plots to 


168 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


get us out of office. While they plotted they talked 
violently. To-day their plots came to an end. 
Common sense has got hold of them, and in con- 
sequence their patriotism, which is perfectly sincere 
and perfectly honourable, has taken a different 
course. They don’t want to get us out of office. 
They want the triumph of their principles. I am 
certain that most of them thoroughly believe, 
religiously believe, that higher wages secured by 
Tariff Reform will preserve the self-reliance and the 
individualism of the Englishman better than all 
our elaborate schemes of State interference. Rightly 
or wrongly, they believe that, and . . .” 

“ Then why in Heaven’s name,” demanded one 
of the others, “ this surrender to us, this offer to 
serve humbly in the ranks of their enemies ? ” 

The other answered : “ By opposing us they 

force us faster along our road. Marching with us 
they will make the pace slower. No ! it is not a 
plot : that is not their purpose. I believe they 
mean to help us sincerely in our reforms, and I 
think our reforms will be all the more wise and 
thorough for their help.” 

“My dear fellow,” said one of the others, “I just 

heard Lord ” (he named a notorious newspaper 

proprietor) “ say to a Lobby correspondent as he 
came down from the peers’ gallery, ‘ That ass must 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


169 


go.’ You may be quite right. The speech may 
have been genuine. But it is only the genuineness 
of one man. The party will kick him out.” 

“ That,” I remarked, “ is, of course, the interesting 
point. Quite evidently the speech took the party 
by surprise. And ” — turning to my friend — “ that 
is one of the reasons why I think it was not in the 
nature of a plot. But I observed that many of the 
Tories, I should say at least half of them, cheered 
the speech towards its conclusion as heartily as 
any of you. However, the leaders have to reckon 
with the machine.” 

At this point a well-known Conservative — an old 
slow-speaking man accounted something of a bore 
— came up to our lounge. He shook hands with 
me quietly and rather solemnly ; then turning to 
the group of Liberals he surveyed them through 
his gold-rimmed spectacles for a moment without 
speaking. 

One of them said to him. “ You are an honest 
man ; tell us now — Is it a plot ? ” 

He stood with his hands on the shoulders of the 
young Liberal suspected of Christian Socialism. 
His long white beard touched the dark hair of the 
young man. “ Don’t you realise,” he asked slowly 
and quietly, “ what has happened ? ” 

No one answered him. 


170 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


“ It means,” he said, “ that what religious people 
call the Spirit of God has entered the House of 
Commons. We have begun a new epoch. Hence- 
forth the affairs of the nation will not be tom 
between the wolves of faction. On your side and 
on my side men who believe in God will work for 
the prosperity of the country. It is a new era.” 

There was a pause, but before I could ask him 
the question on the tip of my tongue he continued : 
“ You think I am speaking without knowledge. 
But I have been in the Lobby and I have talked to 
perhaps fifty members. I will tell you what I found. 
I found that all those men who believe in religion 
applauded and rejoiced in that great speech. I 
found that only those men who notoriously regard 
religion as a superstition treated it with contempt 
and anger. I believe that the day of the Christians 
is at hand. And I believe that only Christianity 
can save us. On our side we want a deeper sym- 
pathy with the poor, and on your side you want a 
large charity towards the rich. Only Christianity 
can help us both. You will see. The day may even 
come when the House of Commons will divide 
itself in a new way. On one side, the Christians ; 
on the other, the Materialists. But for the present 
the Christians on both sides of the House will work 
together for the salvation of the country. My 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


171 


friends, the Empire is saved. We are going to 
work, all of us, for the social and spiritual better- 
ment of our country.” 

“ It is bound to be so,” said the young Liberal, 
“ simply because it is so reasonable. We aren’t sent 
here to fight each other. We are sent here to 
improve things. Evolution in a football scrimmage 
is absurd.” 

The venerable Conservative moved away, and 
taking leave of my friend I followed him. 

“ Will you tell me ? ” I asked the old man, 
“ whether you expected any such consummation as 
that of what you have spoken ? ” 

He slipped his arm through mine. “ Yes,” he 
said, “ I expected it.” 

My heart beat faster. “ Tell me,” I asked ; 
“ have you been warned, have you had any vision 
or dream ? ” 

“No” 

“ But you expected this strange thing ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How, then ? Tell me.” 

He walked on for a few paces in silence, and then, 
pressing my arm, he said, “ Because I have prayed 
for it.” He turned to me, smiling. “Does that 
surprise you ? I don’t think it should.” He looked 
away again and drew me to one of the cushioned 


172 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


arches in the corridor which connects the two 
Lobbies. “ Prayer,” he said, as we sat down, 
“ has accomplished marvellous things in the past. 
Christianity insists upon prayer, and Christianity 
has been the greatest (orce in human life. But 
the prayer of which Christianity speaks is not the 
perfunctory prayer of the Church nor yet the 
individual prayer of the Chapel. It is something 
more than that. It is the pure and earnest aspira- 
tion of souls who set the spiritual life above every- 
thing else on earth. That is the prayer that moves 
mountains.” 

Then he told me that five of his fellow-members, 
two of them Liberals, had made it a duty to meet 
together one day every week and pray for the 
conversion of England. 

“ It was in no spirit of self-righteousness that we 
came together for this purpose,” he said very 
solemnly. “ God forbid. No ; we saw as every 
honest man must see, that England in her national 
life is not Christian. However nobly individuals 
may live, the State does not acknowledge God in the 
business of the nation. We saw the peril of such 
frank materialism. We saw the danger of such 
national apostasy. And so we came together, and 
we prayed earnestly that the illusion of materialism, 
with all its problems and contentions, might pass 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


173 


away from the national soul. That was our prayer. 
Thy kingdom come . Thy will he done. And I knew, 
we all knew, that sooner or later our prayer would 
be answered. The answer has come to-day. Hence- 
forth, mark my words, the old and utterly insane 
controversy of parties will cease ; a new spirit will 
pervade our discussions ; we shall address ourselves 
to all the difficulties of statecraft with the sure 
purpose of the spiritual life always in our minds. 
See how it clears the way ! Henceforth every 
measure will be debated from a single standpoint. 
We shall ask ourselves, What will this Bill do to 
make men worthier of their immortal destiny ? It 
will be judged by that standard, and by that alone.” 

I said to him as he rose to go : “It is strange 
that this new spirit in the House of Commons 
should come on the very day when humanity 
outside seems to have awakened suddenly to the 
truth of religion.” 

“ Depend upon it,” he said, “ men and women 
have been praying for the inspiration of the Holy 
Spirit.” 

“ But you yourself have had no warning that the 
prayer was to be so miraculously answered ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ It seems to me quite clear that the whole thing 
is miraculous.” 


174 


THE OPEN HEAVENS 


“ If you like to put it so,” he answered. “ But 
everything is miraculous. I prefer to say that it 
is an answer to prayer. I am deeply and profoundly 
thankful, but I am not surprised. Young says that 
ardent prayer opens heaven. All those who have 
ever prayed know that it is so. My friend, the 
heavens are open. Look well and you will see the 
angels of God,” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 

rilHERE was no unusual crowd outside the House 
of Commons. I was able to walk without diffi- 
culty to Parliament Street, where I took a cab and 
proceeded towards my lodgings. 

The conversation with the old Conservative had 
made a profound impression upon me. Indeed, it 
had obliterated the more dramatic impression made 
by the unexpected speech of the debate. It seemed 
to me, pondering the words of the old man, that 
something analogous to the old fairy-stories might 
be traced in the condition of the modern world. 
Darwin, bending his attention to physical things, 
and Herbert Spencer, concentrating his thoughts 
upon a single philosophical thesis, had lost their 
capacity to appreciate music. A spell, such as the 
fairy-stories of our childhood tell about, had been 
thrown upon them. They were not free men. They 
could not be what they wished to be. Consciously 
they deplored the loss of a pleasure inexpressibly 
dear to them. 


17fl 


176 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


And in some such manner, so it seemed to me, the 
modern world had devoted the centre of its attention 
to machinery. The tremendous interest and danger- 
ous fascination of mechanical contrivance had 
bewitched it like a spell. A man who studied the 
moving of visible wheels, the correlation of tangible 
parts, the amazing and almost human results of 
this complicated interdependence of manufactured 
things, became incapable of appreciating the 
invisible universe. And the rest of the world, hypno- 
tised by this devotion to machinery and dazed by its 
bewildering achievements, grew gradually dead to 
spiritual things. The one was real, the other was a 
dream. 

But, as in fairy-stories, this potent and most 
subtle spell was now apparently broken. All of a 
sudden, so it appeared to me, men had broken 
through the mists of hypnosis, and had come 
face to face with Reality. They perceived in a flash 
that life was different from anything of which they 
had conceived. They saw all the roaring machinery 
of invention as so many trivial toys of childhood. 
They stood gazing into the depths of everlasting 
life. They felt their little world expand to the 
infinite majesty of boundless space. They were 
conscious of God. 

And in this new light how different looked the 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


177 


world ! What had materialism done to life ? They 
looked about them, haggard and astonished. Things 
that had seemed to them natural, things that had 
escaped their attention, things that they had 
accepted as part of the order of existence, now stood 
out bare, gaunt, spectral, and horror-striking* 
Materialism had blundered. Materialism had 
brought this confusion to pass. Life, as materialism 
had made it, was hideous and devilish. 

And now, like a swarm of scattered ants, they 
were running hither and thither to alter things. 
The idea of God had struck upon their souls. 
Instantly the world was to be made worthy of 
eternal glory. No child was to suffer hunger and 
thirst. No man should profit by the poverty of his 
fellow-creatures. Life was to be reorganised. The 
spiritual destiny of humanity was to be the purpose 
of all thought, all action, and all aspiration. Life 
was to be rendered beautiful, dignified, and pure. 
The world was conscience -stricken. 

As these thoughts passed through my mind, a 
sense of fresh exaltation visited my soul. I rejoiced 
with what an old chronicler once called “ the 
uppermost satisfaction.” Almost in an ecstasy of 
delight, I realised that I was witnessing the new- 
birth of the world. Humanity was being born again. 

I looked through my cab window. The streets 

N 


178 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


were bright with the setting of the sun. In this 
gentle radiance men and women were moving slowly 
and quietly. The haste of ordinary days was no- 
where to be seen. People were sauntering, and as 
they sauntered they smiled and talked pleasantly 
together. I saw one of my own nephews, a young 
Guardsman, go up to an ancient beggar-woman and 
take from her shoulder the sack under which she 
was painfully bending. I saw men of fashion talking 
to wretched creatures with sandwich-boards. I 
noticed several ladies taking ragged children into 
their carriages and motor-cars. 

But there was something new and strange in the 
aspect of the street, I knew not what, for which this 
kindness and chivalry of the people on the pavement 
did not account. I was puzzled to know what it 
might be. At last the cause made itself apparent. 
There was a most singular and pleasing courtesy 
among the drivers of vehicles. 

Slight as was this cause, the result was extra- 
ordinary. Instead of clamorous and pushing 
competition, the crowding vehicles glided forward 
with wonderful quietness, giving way to each other, 
pausing for people to cross in front of them, and 
proceeding, nevertheless, with far fewer checks and 
interruptions than usual. Drivers of vans kept to 
the kerb’s edge, motor-buses drew to one side when 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


179 


a taxi-cab was passing them, motor-cars slowed 
down for restive horses. I observed on the faces of 
drivers and chauffeurs a remarkable absence of that 
almost brutal concentration which has rendered the 
transition to petrol so unpleasant and ugly. There 
was an obvious geniality and good-humour in the 
faces of these men, such as one was accustomed to 
see in the faces of old cabmen. 

I turned from my study of vehicles to look once 
more at the people on the pavement. My cab was 
rounding the comer of Lower Regent Street into 
Piccadilly. The crowds were denser. Some strange 
commotion seemed to be taking place. I was 
startled by the sudden change from the peace and 
quiet of the streets I had just left. My cab was 
stopped, and I got out to see what was happening. 

When I had paid the cabman, I crossed the road 
to the north side of Piccadilly, where the crowd was 
densest and the excitement greatest. I found 
myself in a pack of people. It was only with the 
greatest difficulty I could wedge myself into this 
swarm of human beings, and to move forward was 
almost impossible. Some people were crying, others 
were talking excitedly, a few were laughing very 
brutally. Policemen endeavoured to keep us 
moving. Mounted policemen were diverting the 
traffic. Most of the shops were shuttered. 


180 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


I avoided being turned down a side street, and 
passed forward into freer space. As I did so, 
suddenly I saw in front of me, white, luminous, 
and beautiful, the figure of a spirit Child. It was 
a Child, one would say, of twelve years of age. And 
yet I felt instantly, nay I knew, that it was the soul 
of the babe that I had seen lying dead that morning 
in the quarry man’s cottage. I saw the Child 
distinctly, hie turned and looked at me. For 
several moments our eyes met. His face and his 
garments were transfigured, his hair was like spun 
gold, his eyes were like violets, his lips were smiling 
very tenderly. It is impossible for me to think that 
I imagined the figure to be there. I was in no mood 
of abstraction. On every side I was thronged 
by an excited crowd. The sense of something 
happening had completely driven reverie from 
my mind. No ; I am as certain as I am of any- 
thing that in thal^ congestion of humanity the 
soul of the dead babe was moving like an angel 
of God. 

My eyes were still fixed upon the Child. I was 
impatient to draw level with him. I was struggling 
to get clear of people in front of me, when I felt my 
arm caught, and heard myself called by name. I 
looked up, and found myself face to face with the 
Bishop of Brompton. 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


181 


He was almost breathless. “ Come and help us ! ” 
he exclaimed. “ You are the very man.” 

As he uttered these words his restless eyes glanced 
to right and left of him. As he finished, still holding 
my arm, he plunged suddenly forward, dragging me 
with him. 

A woman, hot-faced and indignant, was en- 
deavouring to force herself through the crowd. 
There was no mistaking her place in the world. 

The Bishop confronted her. “ Save your soul ! ” 
he whispered passionately in her ear. “You were 
once an innocent child. A mother nursed you, 
perhaps she prayed for you. Save your soul.” He 
took one of her hands. “ My sister, my sister,” he 
cried ; “ you are in frightful peril. I can’t see you 
walking to perdition. I must make an effort to 
save you. You are going to everlasting misery. 
Turn to Christ — turn to the pitiful Christ.” He 
dragged her away with him to the pavement’s edge. 
A motor-car stopped by him. “ Here is a lady,” he 
said, “ waiting to take you into her home. She 
will care for you and love you, because she loves 
Christ. Open your heart to her. Tell her everything. 
She will show you the way to peace.” The door 
opened, and inside the motor-car I saw Lady Sal- 
vington. 

The woman had burst into tears. She covered 


182 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


her face with her hands and allowed herself to be 
placed in the motor-car. “ Come back when you 
can,” the Bishop said to Lady Salvington, and shut 
the door. 

He put his arm through mine and pushed his way 
through the crowd. “ My dear fellow,” he said, 
“ what have we been about all these years ? We 
must have been walking in sleep. Great heavens, 
thousands of our sisters, our sisters , walking on 
these streets to eternal hell, and we have scarcely 
moved a finger to save them. We have paid a few 
people to try to save them ! We have endeavoured 
to provide Parliamentary legislation ! And all the 
time, under our very eyes, thousands and thousands 
of poor women going straight to hell ! ” 

Two quite young girls, pale and excited, came 
towards us. They were glancing over their shoulders 
with apparent terror. Behind them, thrusting 
towards them and leering at them, came a big 
brutal-faced man of middle age. The Bishop sprang 
forward at this fellow and stood in his way. 

“ What are you about ? ” he demanded. 

The man was taken completely by surprise. He 
stared and said nothing. 

The Bishop said to him : “ Do you know what 

you should be doing ? You should be helping to save 
poor womeE who are going to hell for want of a little 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


183 


kindness, for lack of a little love. You are a man. 
You are answerable to God. Come, turn round, 
and help us to lift poor perishing souls out of the 
road to hell.” 

The man had recovered himself. He endeavoured 
to push past. 4 4 Oh, you get out ! ” he said savagely. 

But the Bishop held him. 44 1 warn you ! ” he 
said sternly. 44 You are doing the devil’s work.” 

44 Let go of me,” said the man, glowering at the 
Bishop. He was now white, and trembling with 
rage. 

44 Have you no sisters ? Had you no mother ? ’ 
the Bishop demanded. 44 How would you like to 
see your sisters walking these streets with no place 
in the homes of men ? How would you like to see 
your mother here ? Man alive, God exists ! His 
wrath will crush you to powder. Save your soul. 
I warn you. Save your soul.” 

He let go of the man, and three young men who had 
been in the crowd surrounding us, followed at the 
fellow’s heels. One of them called back over his 
shoulder, 44 We’ll look after him, Bishop.” 

The Bishop said to me : 44 We’re going to sweep 
the streets of London clean. To-day is the last day 
of apathy and indifference. To-morrow we wake 
to a new London. You’ll not know it for the same 
London, I promise you. Think, my dear fellow, of 


184 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


the madness of the past. We have actually allowed 
the principal streets of the metropolis, not the 
back streets, the principal streets of the capital city 
of the British Empire to be occupied unchallenged 
by Vice. We have permitted it ! The lowest 
degradation to which a woman can descend, the 
most unthinkable impurity to which a human soul 
can come — the actual selling of the body — this has 
been going on in the chief centre of England’s 
chiefest city. Why, what does it mean ? Vice 
walks shameless and bold in our proudest streets, 
and in our proudest streets Virtue walks shameful 
and pained. That’s what it means. Think of it ! 
Such a thing doesn’t exist in a single village, in 
scarcely one of our provincial towns, and not at all 
in any of the cities of Ireland. But it’s so in London ! 
Why ? Why ? Vice with us isn’t a matter of dark 
streets and hidden roads. It isn’t something to 
which people creep guilty and ashamed. No ! it’s 
here in the proudest of our streets. These streets 
belong to it. Music-halls and restaurants exist for 
it. It isn’t safe for young girls to walk here, it’s 
indecent for ladies to be here alone. In the centre 
of London i Vice has stolen our capital city. And 
we sit idle. I was going out to dinner to-night ! I 
was to have met you. We should have talked and 
laughed and jested — good God, we should have 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


185 


talked and laughed and jested ! — and here on these 
streets thousands of poor girls would have been 
going to hell unwarned, unfriended ! ” 

While he was speaking I saw again and again 
some weeping Magdalen being guided to a carriage 
or to a motor-car, by men and by women. Several 
clergymen were at this work, and several Noncon- 
formist ministers. The streets seemed to be occu- 
pied by an army of Christians. It was as though a 
trumpet had blown from heaven and all true soldiers 
of Christ had mustered for the salvation of humanity. 
I was moved more than I can say by that wonderful 
sight. Ladies of title very well known to me, able 
and brilliant clergymen with whom I had some 
acquaintance, numerous men and women repre- 
sentative of all classes, were pleading and sheltering 
and warning the Magdalens of London. 

In most cases these unhappy creatures broke down 
utterly and surrendered to the loving solicitude of 
those who sought to help them. Carriages and 
motor-cars were continually gliding away with some 
poor creature only too grateful to be saved from 
misery. But I noticed women who shook off with 
anger and with passionate indignation the people 
who sought to save them. I noticed others who 
were hurrying away to escape from pleading and help. 
I noticed a few who openly mocked the Christians. 


186 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


“ I’ve got hundreds of men and women in the 
restaurants,” said the Bishop. “We’ve taken 
possession of the enemy’s country. To-night we 
shall fill the music-halls. If there’s anything 
shameful or disgusting in the programme, it will 
be hissed off the stage. If there’s any traffic in the 
lounges it will be stopped. And it’s going to be like 
this night after night. We’ve slept for years. We’ve 
suffered the enemy to do what he likes. But now, 
now we’re awake ! We’re going to fight. We’re a 
Church in arms. You’ll see now which is the stronger, 
Righteousness or Iniquity, God or the Devil.” 

I drew him aside from the crowd. “ Th^re are 
. many people working here to save these women,” I 
said ; “ you can be spared for a few minutes. Come 
with me to my rooms. I really want to speak to 
you.” 

He put his hands on my arms impulsively and 
smiled, shaking his head. “ No, my dear fellow, 
no ! We’ve done too much talking already. No 
man can be spared. You yourself ought to be 
helping us. If you’ve got rooms close by, use them 
for saving these poor women. Don’t you see that 
all the trouble has been caused by this same talking ? 
We’ve talked ourselves asleep. We’ve talked 
ourselves out of a living faith. What we should 
have done, we must do now with all our might, we 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


187 


must act. We must not only show our colours, we 
must draw our swords. We must not only parade, 
we must fight. We must act as if we really believed 
what we profess.” 

He was moving away, when he came suddenly 
back to me, very earnest, and very solemn, and very 
quiet. “ How has it come to pass,” he said, “ that 
we have allowed this state of things to grow into 
being ? When I ask myself that question I do not 
feel that I have been asleep ; I feel that I have 
been mad. Think ! We have been preaching and 
praying all these years, we have been meeting and 
discussing, we have been holding festivals and 
taking part in ceremonies, while under our very 
eyes thousands upon thousands of our weakest 
fellow-creatures — seventy per cent of them the 
genuine victims of the seducer — have been going 
steadily and broken-heartedly to hell. Oh, we have 
had our societies, our paid agents, and our noble 
sisters standing at street corners, but we ourselves, 
we, the Church of Christ, what have we been 
doing ? Why have we not been doing all these 
years what we are doing now ? Is it not the obvious 
thing that we are doing ? And I have passed thou- 
sands of these poor girls without a word. So have 
you. So have thousands of good Christians. Think ! 
We have passed souls going straight to hell, knowing 


188 


THE CHURCH IN ARMS 


they are going straight to hell, without one word ! 
When I think of that I feel we have been mad.” 

“It is of that I want so much to speak to you.” 
I said. “ Can’t you really spare me half an hour ? ” 
“ No ! no ! ” he cried, “ not another minute. 
Too much talk, too much talk ! I have lost oppor- 
tunities standing here.” He moved away, back to 
the crowded streets. Over his shoulder he called 
to me, “ Warn somebody to-night. Speak at least 
to one or two. Don’t waste a single chance.” 

I watched him enter the crowds of Piccadilly, 
and followed him with my eyes till he was out of 
sight. 

While I was standing there a man approached me. 
“ This,” said he, “ is the coup de main of God 
Himself.” He smiled and added with conviction : 
“It is better than the coup d’etat of which we once 
spoke together.” 

It was the political journalist who had told me 
I was not the man. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


A S we walked away together he said to me, 
“ We shall never again get the Church to arm 
itself against Welsh Disestablishment ! It’s armed 
now against Satan. It will think only of that. 
There’s nothing so obsessing and exciting as fighting 
the Devil.” 

“ What do you think of it all ? ” I asked him. 

He pushed back his hat, heaved up his shoulders, 
and replied : “ The cause is simple and yet ob- 
scure ” 

“ Oh, you know the cause, then ? ” I interrupted. 

“ The cause ! Well, isn’t it obvious ? It seems 
to me self-evident that we are in for one of those 
waves of religious feeling which make for revivals. 
A few years ago there was one in Wales. Before 
that there was the Booth wave. Before that the 
Wesley wave. They are common enough. The 
interesting thing lies in the fact so little recognised 
by historians and theologians that the materials 
180 


190 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


for these tremendous movements of religious feeling 
are always in existence. They were in existence 
before John Baptist took to the wilderness. They 
were in existence before Christ came from the 
wilderness. They were in existence before Piers 
Plowman sang, before Wyclif preached, before 
Luther played the revolutionary, before Wesley 
mounted his horse and rode through the eighteenth 
century. They are always in existence. What is 
needed is the man. Let some great and earnest 
man preach the reality of spiritual things and 
mankind will rise from the calm of torpidity like a 
great tidal wave, sweeping everything before it. 
I am always so amused when I hear of clergymen 
deploring the indifference of mankind to spiritual 
things. That charge is a boomerang. The flock is 
indifferent when the shepherd is lacking. One 
great priest, truly in earnest, can as surely rouse the 
Church to action as Napoleon could draw the 
soldiers of France to his standard.” 

“ But,” I said, “ where is the great man on this 
occasion ? ” 

“ I haven’t the least idea, but I am sure he is in 
existence. We shall hear of him in a few days. 
We shall find that some one man has been spurring 
the Bishopof Brompton to invade the London streets. 
That the same one man has been driving Duchesses 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 191 


to invade the East End. He is probably a curate 
in North Kensington, or a colonial secretary of the 
Young Men’s Christian Association. New blood, 
you may depend upon it, has been pumped into the 
Church. The Church is awake. Christianity is 
armed. The Devil is to be got on the run and kept 
running till the wave subsides.” 

I let him proceed in this fashion for a few moments 
and then I asked him if he thought this same one 
man had inspired the owners of slum properties 
to visit their rookeries and give orders for their 
demolition. 

4 4 A thing like this is contagious,” he answered. 
“It is one of the infallible elements of all religious 
revivals that the quickened fire spreads instantly 
and almost incredibly over an enormous area. I 
cannot say how it comes about. If it satisfies you, 
I will admit the thing to be miraculous. But the 
origin of it all, I am sure, is the religious enthusiasm, 
the religious earnestness, the religious reality of one 
man.” 

I spoke of employers who had suddenly adopted, 
or had proposed that day to adopt, the principle 
of Co-partnership. 

He replied in the same way. The wave of religious 
enthusiasm, he said, had spread and flooded into 
every creek and inlet of our national existence. 


192 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOCJD 


“ Even,” I said — we were near my door in 
Hertford Street — “ into the House of Commons ! ” 

He smiled. “ Ah, I fancy that there we have a 
safe breakwater against all the floods of religious 
feeling ! ” 

He had put out his hand to say good-bye. 

“ But do you think that, after the debate to-day? ” 

He started. “ What do you mean ? ” he asked, 
almost agape. 

“ Haven’t you heard ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Do you mean to tell me ” 

“ Please. What has happened ? ” The man was 
pale and excited. 

“ Well, your side came into battle without swords. 
The spokesman bore an olive branch. The two parties 
have embraced each other.” 

“ You can’t mean that.” 

“ I do, indeed.” 

“ Oh, but it’s some fantastic rumour.” 

“ I was there.” 

“ You were there ! ” 

“ It was the most striking speech I ever heard in 
my life. Perhaps the immense surprise, the extra- 
ordinary unexpectedness of it, may have had some- 
thing to do with the effect. But, on my life, I 
never ” 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 193 


He took hold of my arm. “ Let me come in with 
you,” he said. “ Great heavens, I believe the world 
is mad ! Tell me about it. To-day was our chance. 
As I was listening to the stories about this amazing 
movement of philanthropy I thought to myself 
that the gods had prepared the ground for the 
battle of this afternoon. Nothing could have been 
more to our advantage. And you tell me there 
was no onslaught ? Not a stroke ? Not one single 
charge ? Good heavens, the ground has gone from 
under me! ” 

We entered my sitting-room and I rang for tea. 
The journalist huddled himself up in a big chair, 
nursing his knees, and begged me to tell him exactly 
what had happened. His eyes shone brightly. His 
skin was the colour of a candle. 

“ I lunched at the Naval and Military,” he said. 
“I met Highton. I wanted to get some real facts 
about these new guns. After lunch everyone was 
talking about the sudden revival of slumming as a 
fashionable craze. Then came news about the 
Welsh Coal Syndicate and Co-partnership. I rubbed 
my hands and told them that the battle was ours. 
I imagined that our fellows in the House of Com- 
mons were simply mowing down the Ministry. I 
coined phrases for my leader to-morrow ! I saw 
the enemy beaten and fleeing. It was our chance, 


o 


194 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


our chance ! And now you say . . . But tell me. 
You were there. Tell me about the feeling in the 
House. What did men say ? ” 

While we took tea I gave him an account of the 
speech, the Premier’s reply, and spoke of the gossip 
I had heard afterwards. I did not tell him about 
the old Conservative and his faith in prayer, because 
I considered, first, that it was in the nature of a 
confidence, and, second, that the journalist would 
hardly understand it. 

He listened intently. He was watching me like 
a cat. Over his teacup his eyes were fixed upon me. 
While he was eating he still regarded me with this 
sharpness of interest. And he never once interrupted 
me. 

When I had finished he sprang up and began 
pacing the room. As he spoke he drove his fingers 
through his hair again and again. His voice was 
low and restrained. His intellect was never out 
of hand. 

“ What does this mean ? ” he said, as one thinking 
aloud. “ It means ruin. Not temporary ruin. It 
means everlasting ruin. We shall never get over it. 
We shall never emerge. Chamber lainism is dead. 
Imperialism is dead. Tariff Reform is dead. Three 
hours ago they were on the edge of victory. Now 
they are driven out of existence. They cannot come 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 195 


back. Socialism has won. The last obstacle in its 
path is removed. We have removed it. We have 
cleared the way. Five years from now England 
will be a Republic.” 

He placed his hands behind his back, twisting 
his fingers together. “It is too late to protest. 
Our leaders have betrayed us. We are sold to the 
enemy. Not all the newspapers in England can 
save us, even if they had the guts to fight. Solemnly 
and before the eyes of the whole nation we have 
surrendered to a triumphant enemy. My work is 
done. I am beaten. England is lost.” 

I could not help smiling. “ You forget,” I 
said 

“ I forget nothing ! ” he cried, lifting his head, 
and for a moment standing still to survey me. 
“ You mean that he spoke of his devotion to our 
principles ? You think that those principles still 
exist ? I tell you they are dead. A man fights for 
his principles, dies for his principles. When he 
kisses the cheek of those who are at enmity with 
those principles they cease to exist. Henceforth, 
mark my words, the Conservative Party in this 
country becomes the spinster-aunt of Liberalism. 
There will be nothing in the House of Commons 
but the purring of cats. Socialism will cool its 
heels at the fire. And the Empire will burn-” 


196 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


He spoke like a man enraged and beaten and 
captive. It was now a most piteous sight to see the 
torture of his unconquerable mind. 

“ I want to ask you a question,” I said to him. 

He came over to me swiftly and almost violently. 
“ There’s no brotherly love in politics,” he said 
bitterly. “ It’s war, and war only. It must be 
war. One side is doing what the other side believes 
to be destructive of the national safety. How can 
there be an alliance ? You must fight, you must 
fight ! Yes, you must fight like the devil. No mercy, 
no quarter. Arthur Balfour tried rose-water. You 
can’t fight an enemy with perfumes and fans. 
You’ve got to hit him. I want war. I want our 
Party in arms. I want the shout and the charge 
and the lust of killing. I want victory, victory, 
by ! And instead . . .” 

“ Let me ask you this question,” I said. 

“ Well ? ” he demanded impatiently. 

“ Do you believe in God ? ” 

His teeth gritted and the bones of his face stood 
out clear and rigid. I saw his fists clench them- 
selves at his side. A shadow seemed to pass across 
his eyes. 

“ I believe in God, yes,” he answered. “ I believe 
in the God of natural law. I believe in the God 
Who doesn't interfere .” 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 197 


“ The God Who expects us to set up the Kingdom 
of Heaven.” 

“ Yes. The Kingdom of Reason.” 

“ Reason ! ” 

“ Yes, the one thing divine about man, lifting 
him above all the animals, is Reason. God expects 
us to use our reason. It is the only instinct of the 
soul. There is no other. Neglect the reason and 
you become an ape, or a monk, or a Socialist — 
something insane.” 

“ But you were speaking just now of war ? ” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Is that rational ? ” 

“ It’s just. It’s a part of nature’s scheme. The 
strong triumph. The battle is only to the strong. 
Right without a sword is virtue in the stocks. 
You’ve got to fight or be crushed. All the living 
religions are armed.” 

“ Why not revive the duel ? ” 

“ The duel was a very excellent institution. 
Gentlemen could five when the duel was in 
vogue. It kept clowns in their place. There 
was no Socialism in England when gentlemen wore 
swords.” 

“ Are you serious ? ” 

“I’m mad — mad with exasperation and rage ! ” 

“ But let us think this thing out. To-morrow 


198 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


you will write. Consider now the facts about which 
you will have to speak your mind.” 

“ There is only one. Imperialism is dead. Already 
I am composing its elegy.” 

“Would it not be wiser to wait for the doctor’s 
certificate ? ” 

“ We have one hope, and one only. A man 
must be found. Oh, for one great fighting soul ! 
One man who is not afraid. Is there such a man ? 
Can we lay our hands on one man ? ” He began 
walking to and fro, biting his lips, muttering names, 

his eyes fixed upon the carpet. “ I must see . 

There may be time. All our papers must cry for war. 

I’ll see and . I’ll try . . Suddenly 

he looked up and came towards me. “ The worst 
of it is,” he said quietly and sorrowfully, “ the 
thing is true.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

He flung himself into a chair. “ Why, of course, 
the best men on both sides ought to co-operate. 
We must have social reform. These slums and 
rookeries must go. They’re heathenish, they’re 
infernal. Children must be given a fair chance — 
every child in the land. And workmen must have 
security. They must, they must. No man can be 
at peace whose home is not secured to him, 
whose bread depends on the demands of a market. 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 199 


And we must free the land. The Radicals are 
perfectly right. Landowners have emptied England. 

These d d pheasants, this confounded hunting ! 

We want peasants. We must have peasants. Our 
strength depends upon the peasantry. And they 
must have land, and decent cottages, and a living 
wage. And we must have devolution — devolution 
all round. The Imperial Parliament must deal 
with imperial affairs. We must have a local Parlia- 
ment for England. We must pull England down 
and build it up afresh. New towns, new cities, new 
villages. More light, more air, more land for every- 
one. Yes, we are only at the beginning of things. 
Modern England has not begun yet. We’re only 
assisting at the obsequies of the old. We’re burying 
feudal England. No, not burying it. We’re 
fighting over the dust and ashes, the bones, the 
bones, the dirty bones ! What a future before us ! 
The building up of a modern, scientific, and per- 
fectly efficient State. The creation of a new world ! 
That’s what it is — the creation of a new world. But 
— Tariff Reform ! We must have it. I wonder, and 
I wonder ! By George, it has just occurred to me ! ” 
He jumped up. “Is it possible ? If it is, by 
heavens, I’ll fight with them ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, the Radicals may do it ! Why not ? 


200 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


A treaty of alliance between us ! We’ll agree to 
help all their social reforms if they introduce 
Imperial Preference. That’s all I care about. I 
want to see the Empire bound up and four-square 
against the world. By George, it’s a great scheme ! 
I must go ! I’ll see the Leader. Yes, it’s a great 
scheme.” 

I made no effort to detain him, but happily he 
turned back at the door. 

“ You asked me a question just now,” he said, 
“ and I answered rather violently. I should like 
you to know that I believe in God, that I try to 
serve what I honestly think to be His purpose, that 
I endeavour to love my fellow-men.” 

I said to him : “ Believe me when I tell you that 
the strange things of to-day are a miracle. They 
come from God.” 

He stared at me. “This religious revival, you 
mean ? ” 

“ Everything.” 

“ You mean that this turn in politics is all part 
of the revival ? ” 

“ To-day,” I made answer, “ some great breath 
of the Eternal Spirit is moving through our national 
life. I know that. I am in no doubt about it. 
And I think I know how it is acting.” 

He glanced at me amazed. 


IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 201 


“ Shall I tell you ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes,” he said curiously and quietly. It was 
evident that he thought my reason to be affected. 

“It is acting, I think, in this manner: It is 
convincing the souls of all those who believe in 
God that God is Reality.” 

He nodded his head. 

“ Think a moment what it means,” I said, 

“ Yes, I see.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ I think so.” 

“ But do you see,” I said approaching him, 
“ that if God is Reality everything becomes dif- 
ferent ? Think. Is not everything in our life — 
our national, social, industrial, and religious life — 
what it is because of the doubt whether God really 
exists ? And if this is so, does not everything 
become different when the actual Reality of God is 
established ? If you believed absolutely in God — 
no, if you knew absolutely that God existed, would 
you pass a single harlot in the street without ex- 
pending all your soul to save her ? would you see 
a man going straight to hell without striving your 
hardest to turn him about ? would you say a word, 
write a word, or do a single action that did not 
help mankind to their immortal inheritance ? That 
is what is happening now. Men who thought they 


202 IMPERIALIST THINKS ALOUD 


believed now know that they believe. The misery 
and the havoc and the confusion of the world are 
caused by the doubt of God’s existence. Remove 
that doubt— God has removed if for us — and the 
Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” 

He said to me, “ You are right. Everything 
turns on that. Everything is what it is because of 
the doubt,” 


CHAPTER XVII 


ETERNAL UNITY 

fTIHE door had closed upon the Imperialist but 
a few minutes when Dr. Garth, the eminent 
Congregationalist, was shown into my room. 

It had been my pleasure to meet him on three or 
four occasions during the period of my political 
negotiations. I had found him a high-minded, 
clear-headed, and singularly disinterested man. 
His scholarship delighted me, his restraint and 
tolerance appealed to me, and I liked him for the 
pleasantness of his manner, the refinement of his 
face, and the amiable tones of his voice. I had 
always remembered him as an excellent, good, 
well-informed, and sensible man. 

I found it now, after the visit of my perturbed 
and tortured friend the Imperialist, quite refreshing 
to let my gaze rest upon the peace of this good 
man’s face — upon the serenity of his brow, the 
abiding tranquillity of his eyes, the gracious calm 
of his lips. It was refreshing, too, after the tense 
203 


204 


ETERNAL UNITY 


and stinging tones of the journalist’s voice, to listen 
to the gentle measured utterance of this steadfast 
soul. 

I greeted him warmly, made him feel himself 
really welcome, and settled down, as I hoped, to 
hear his opinion of the day’s events. 

“ You were kind enough,” he said, “ to consult 
me some little time ago on the matter of a religious 
alliance for political purposes. I am afraid I was 
of no very great service to you. The object you 
had in view seemed to me at the time entirely 
impossible. One can effect nothing without faith.” 

I was surprised to find him speaking so calmly 
of past history when all the world, as it seemed to 
me, was seething with the new leaven of a divine 
revelation. 

“ And now,” he continued, “ I have come to 
consult you , and about an alliance — an alliance, 
too, more difficult, one would think, to bring about 
than the one you had in mind a year or two ago. 
But I hope to find that you will have faith in it. 
May I speak about it ? ” 

“ Forgive me,” I replied, “ but you surprise me 
by speaking of diplomatic negotiations when ap- 
parently something miraculous has occurred which 
has already transformed humanity.” 

He smiled and bowed to me in appreciation, and 


ETERNAL UNITY 


205 


yet in correction, of my remark. “ What I have 
to propose to you,” he said, “ is suggested by this 
miracle of which we are all sensible. My proposition, 
I like to think, is inspired by the same influence.” 

“ And you are by no means surprised or excited ? ” 
I asked, smiling. 

He answered my smile and replied : “I have seen 
so many revivals, I have inquired so thoroughly 
into the literature of conversion, that I know the 
danger of being swept forward on a wave of emotion, 
however genuine and pure. To steady the soul at 
such moments, to get hold of one’s self with both 
hands, as it were, and to hold one’s self fixed and 
square to the abiding conditions of life, is to serve 
the lasting interests of religion. And so in the 
present case. We are aroused by some invisible 
agency. The bugles of God have blown from the 
ramparts of heaven and the whole army of Christ 
is mustering for the victory of His Kingdom. It is 
most wonderful. It is most splendid and elating. 
But — to-morrow will come. The sun will not 
always shine so gloriously. Rain will fall. The 
east wind will blow. And the knapsack of the daily 
task will press upon the shoulders. I am thinking 
of to-morrow. I am thinking how we may carry the 
spirit of to-day into the long road of to-morrow.” 

A sense of greyness crept into the room as he was 


206 


ETERNAL UNITY 


speaking. I felt a chill in my flesh, a depression at 
my heart. After all, I thought, will this thing last, 
can it last, can it survive the ordeal of daily life ? 

I roused myself and said to him : “Of course, 
what you say is perfectly true. But my feeling is 
that this awakening, or this visitation — whatever 
we like to call it — is something deeper than a re- 
vival.” 

“ I perfectly agree,” he answered. “ I am de- 
lighted, too, that you recognise the miracle. That 
will help me when I come to my proposal — for I 
want your enthusiasm ! But I think it will be wise 
for us to anticipate reaction. There are precedents 
in spiritual as well as in temporal things. I con- 
fidently look for the dying down of this sudden 
and splendid wave of religious energy. If I was to 
hear the very Voice of God speaking to us from 
heaven I should know that the long silence would 
return. Let us, at any rate, prepare for to-morrow.” 

I felt the wisdom of the man’s mind, and begged 
him to speak of his proposal, assuring him that I 
would very gladly devote my life to religious 
work. 

“ Ah ! ” he exclaimed, with a charming smile, 
“ you perceive now the futility of politics and the 
complete sufficiency of religion ! When you came 
to me you were a politician, and your proposal was 


ETERNAL UNITY 


207 


to harness religion to the chariot of politics. You 
wanted to use the greater to serve the less. That 
was why I could not help you. I knew the thing was 
hopeless.” 

“ Tell me your proposal,” I said. 

“ My proposal,” he replied, “is to set on foot 
negotiations for an alliance of all the churches in 
the interests for which they exist— the interests of 
religion. Do not look so despairful ! Mark, I am 
seeking a union of the Churches — not in the interests 
of faction, but in the interests of religion. It will 
not be easy. Indeed, it is at the first glance a 
proposition for the impossible. But I think there is 
a road to achievement.” 

“ I feel quite chilled, but please go on ! ” 

“ How dreadful,” he exclaimed, smiling, “ how 
dreadful, isn’t it ? — that any such proposition 
should fill people with despair. How we must have 
blundered in the past ! What follies we must have 
committed ! How very far we must have been from 
the Kingdom of Christ ! When the branches of the 
Vine are in conflict, how shall the world gather 
grapes ? ” 

“Yet you see a way out now ? ” 

“ I think I do,” he replied gravely. 

“ It is a work to which a man might well give his 
life.” 


208 


ETERNAL UNITY 


“ Yes, something to live for, something to die 
for — the patriotism of God ! ” 

“ WeH, tell me.” 

He sat a little forward in his chair, and looking 
at me with great earnestness spoke as follows : 
“ All the many quarrels which divide the churches 
have their rise in theology, not a single one of them 
in religion. From the dawn of Christianity down 
to this present day men have quarrelled, and 
divided, and fought each other about words. The 
battlefield of schism is the region of definition. 
Examine all the historical ruptures, examine the 
most pitiful of the minor sub-divisions of Pro- 
testantism, and you find in no single case that the 
cause of schism was religion. The cause was always 
a matter of dogma, a matter of interpretation. 

“ Now, I would seize this wonderful moment of 
religious energy to bind upon men’s brows the 
common sign of their common faith. I would use 
it to demonstrate the infinite importance of the 
religious life, the altogether minor and inferior 
importance of theological thinking. I believe it 
is possible while Christians are so vitally awake 
to service and action to convince them that their 
definitions and their interpretations are of small 
importance. 

“ And I tell you how I would do that. I would 


ETERNAL UNITY 


209 


say to all Christians in this country, Hitherto 
we have taught that men must think as we think ; 
let us now for evermore teach that men need only 
do as we do ; let us shut our manuals of rules, 
conditions, and rubrics : let us throw into a corner 
of our empty churches all the painful and self- 
contradicting text-books of our theologies ; and 
let us go into the world to save men and to serve 
them. In a word, I would lift the eyes of men from 
a printed page and turn them to a sinful and 
sorrowful world — a world only sinful and sorrowful 
because it does not acknowledge God. 

“ Let me tell you,” he continued, “ what came 
into my mind this morning. I, too, have been 
touched by this wave of religious enthusiasm. 
Early this morning I was reading for I suppose the 
thousandth time Drummond’s Greatest Thing in 
the World. When I came to the passage concerning 
Christ’s prefiguration of the Great Judgment — 

Be not deceived. The words which all of us 
shall one Day hear, sound not of theology but of 
fife, not of churches and saints but of the hungry 
and the poor, not of creeds and doctrines but of 
shelter and clothing, not of Bibles and prayer- 
books but of cups of cold water in the name of 
Christ — 


210 


ETERNAL UNITY 


when I read those words, quite suddenly and quite 
wonderfully, a light shone into my soul, and I be- 
came a Christian. What do I mean by that ? I 
mean exactly what I say. Hitherto I have been a 
Nonconformist, a theologian, a philosopher, an 
ethical teacher — what you will ; but not a Christian. 
A Christian is one who lives and works to bring the 
Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God is not 
brought by thinking. It is brought by doing the 
Will of God. I saw suddenly that all my reading 
and thinking, all my preaching and lecturing, might 
just as well have been done in the name of Socrates 
or in the name of Marcus Aurelius. I saw that 1 
must go into the streets and actually save people. 
I saw that I must minister to the hungry and the 
poor, that I must be dealing with food and shelter, 
that I must be carrying cups of cold water. The 
words which all of us shall one Day hear , sound not 
of theology but of life. I repeated that sentence to 
confirm my illumination, but it was not necessary. 
I saw for the first time in my life, quite vividly and 
almost overwhelmingly, what it means to be a 
Christian. Christianity is a life of love and devo- 
tion.” 

He sat back in his chair and for a moment kept 
silence, gazing before him into the fireplace. Quietly 
he turned his head and looked at me. 


ETERNAL UNITY 


211 


“ Christianity,” he said, “ is faith in God. Christ 
came to teach men that. He knew that a man 
who veritably believes in God is born again. It 
was for Him the supreme wisdom that men should 
believe in God. But we have forgotten God all down 
the centuries. Or, if we have not forgotten Him, 
we have taken Him for granted. We have asked 
men to believe in this and in that, we have puzzled 
them with our conflicting definitions concerning 
the precise relationship of the Son to the Father, 
we have exasperated them, and finally exiled them 
from our churches by insisting on the supreme 
importance of our interpretation of this Scripture 
and our rendering of that particular translation of 
a translation. And all we had to do was to teach 
the infinite and sole importance of faith in God. To 
believe in God — that is to say, to believe in the God 
of Love revealed to humanity by Christ — is the 
first necessity of the religious life. And the next, 
to do His Will as revealed to us by Christ. Those 
are the essentials. Those are the facts. Nothing 
else is above them. 

“ My hope is this, that now, with a great wave 
of religious enthusiasm, and at a time when men 
are sick to death of theological futilities, we may 
unite the Churches in these essentials of Christianity. 
But listen ! I am not so foolish as to suppose that 


212 


ETERNAL UNITY 


any single Church will drop its particular orthodoxy. 
I am not proposing that there should be one Church 
and one definition of Christianity. That is where 
we have blundered in the past. But I see no 
insuperable difficulty to this great consummation — 
that all the Churches should proclaim with one 
voice, in perfect and unequivocating unanimity, 
that faith in the God revealed by Christ, and ser- 
vice to humanity in the name of Christ, are the 
foundations and the first essentials of the Christian 
religion. 

“ In the past Protestants have attacked Catholics 
for teaching one thing, Evangelicals have attacked 
Ritualists for teaching another thing, and so on, 
and so on. We have all been making a tremendous 
to-do about things which are not of supreme im- 
portance. Now, I want to change that by simply 
concentrating the attention of all the Churches on 
the first and supreme essentials of Christianity. 
Let us say to each other, every one of us, These 
are the supreme things. Let us also say, Nothing 
else matters. Do you see what I mean ? Let the 
Ritualist have his candles and vestments : why not ? 
Let the Baptist have his pool for immersion : why 
not ? Let the Roman have his fast days : why 
not ? All I would ask of any man who would call 
himself a Christian is this : You must believe 


ETERNAL UNITY 213 

in a God of Love, and you must lead a life of 
love.” 

He stood up suddenly, and facing away from me 
for a moment, his hands resting on the mantel- 
piece, spoke as follows : 

“ This is the heart of my proposal : That we all 
agree to recognise the complete liberty of Christians 
to act as they please in the region of non-essentials. 
I see now the illuminating wisdom of Christ’s 
instruction, By their fruits ye shall know them” 
He turned round to me. “Do I make myself 
clear ? ” he asked. “All the divisions of Christen- 
dom are in the region of non-essentials. We have 
made those divisions ourselves by attaching to non- 
essentials the importance of essentials. Directly 
we recognise that the only essentials are faith in 
the God of Love and a life of love and devotion to 
humanity — directly we recognise this, our furious 
battles over the non-essentials of dogma and ritual 
sink into astonished peace. But see what we have 
been doing ! We have been attacking — there are 
societies with large funds existing only to attack — 
our fellow-Christians for teaching a dogma with 
which we do not agree ! Is that not monstrous ? 
Those fellow-Christians may worship God, may 
give food and clothing to the poor, may comfort the 
sorrowful, visit those who are sick and in prison, 


214 ETERNAL UNITY 

but because they do not think as we think we attack 
them ! ” 

I saw the Great Hope which was shining in this 
good man’s soul. I hailed with something very like 
rapture a cessation of sectarian strife, a unity of 
religious service. But I saw another way to bring 
this hope to consummation. 

“If I judge men aright,” I said to him, “ it 
would be dangerous to use in the negotiations you 
propose the words essential and non-essential. 
Every man believes that his doxy is essential. 
There must always be strife if we endeavour to say 
what is essential. Our very declaration of what is 
essential becomes a dogma over which men would 
tear the Church of Christ into factions. I do not 
think there is any more dangerous word in religion 
than the word essential .” 

“ I am afraid that is so,” he replied. 

“ But there is another way of attaining your end,” 
I continued. “ Let us try to see if we can obtain 
from all the various Churches a statement as to the 
future state. I mean, instead of asking them what 
is necessary to salvation on earth, let us pin them 
down to a declaration concerning the destiny of 
man’s soul in the world to come. Will any of them 
dare to say that a kind and moral man must go to 
hell ? Would a Ritualist say that Spurgeon is shut 


ETERNAL UNITY 


215 


out from heaven ? Would a Roman say that General 
Booth is in hell ? Would all the Churches say 
that Darwin is eternally damned ? If we keep to 
the moral sphere, and if our negotiations only aim 
at a unanimity of declaration concerning the future 
state, we shall be almost certain to draw the Churches 
together. I mean, we shall be standing on the rock 
of Christ instead of in the schools of theology. 
Christ came to save men. We shall be using words 
like Good and Evil, Righteousness and Iniquity, 
Virtue and Vice. Over those words no quarrel is 
possible. I think we might succeed by this means 
not only in drawing the Churches together, but in 
attracting the allegiance of humanity. There should 
be only one division in the world — religiously, 
politically, socially — the division between the Good 
and the Evil.” 

He nodded his head. “ You are perfectly right. 
And what is more to the point, you are enthusiastic. 
Now I am satisfied ! Will you,” he asked, “ begin 
at once negotiations of this kind ? ” 

I said that I would gladly do so. 

“ Remember my point,” he said, “ that the 
mistake of the past has been our furious inter- 
necine conflicts over things that could not possibly 
affect men’s doom in the next world. However 
interesting, however important those things may 


216 


ETERNAL UNITY 


be, they cannot possibly make a soul either righteous 
or evil. Foolish, frivolous, unworthy they may be, 
but they are not of eternal moment. The Eternal 
God is too big for them. Incense, candles, vest- 
ments, genuflexions, and all the rest of it — how 
could those things possibly send a man’s soul to 
hell ? And our business simply lies there — in saving 
sinful men from hell, in turning all men to the wor- 
ship of God.” 

“ My one fear,” I said, “ arises from my know- 
ledge of the professional Christian’s rigidity of 
mind. Will he ever dare to aver that right thinking 
is not essential to right living ? — right thinking, of 
course, being his own particular form of inherited 
orthodoxy. Consistency with these narrow minds 
is a passion. Tolerance is weakness. To be in- 
flexible is a virtue. I fear they will not rise to a 
less partial comprehension of the universe.” 

Dr. Garth nodded his head. “ I know,” he 
answered. “ The most loyal Christians of to-day 
are like the most loyal Pharisees of the days of 
Christ. The passion for the letter is a madness 
with them. And by their insistence on the letter 
they prevent men from perceiving the beauty and 
attraction of Christ’s Spirit. Nevertheless, I believe 
that this awakening to the need for action, this 
sudden perception of the necessity for service, 


ETERNAL UNITY 


217 


will sweep all that folly out of existence. There 
must be, as you say, only one clear division among 
men, a division of the Good and the Evil, of those 
who believe in God and of those who believe in 
Satan. Already there is a movement in that direc- 
tion among politicians, for to-day’s proceedings in 
the House of Commons must surely lead to the 
union of all good and virtuous and Christian patriots 
for the welfare of England. And so it must be with 
the Churches. Yes, and it is of infinitely more 
importance that there should be this alliance of the 
Churches, because politics can only handle the 
conditions of life. It is religion alone that can save 
the soul.” 

I agreed to call upon several prominent Church- 
men on the following day, while Dr. Garth was to 
consult the chief ministers of the Nonconformist 
Churches. We were both to work for a private 
conference of these influential men under the 
chairmanship of the Bishop of Oxford. Our con- 
ference was to be brought about as soon as possible, 
but we were to suggest at once, without a moment’s 
delay, the idea of religious union to the chief news- 
papers. 

“ Do not let the wave subside,” said my visitor, 
“ before something is done to carry its momentum 
into an indefinite future.” 


218 


ETERNAL UNITY 


When he had gone I recollected two engagements. 
I had promised to call upon Lady Edmund Peverel, 
and I was to dine at eight o’clock with the Lulling- 
tons. 

It was now past six. 

My conversation with Dr. Garth had filled me with 
real enthusiasm for his idea. I do not know that 
anything in fife had ever moved me so profoundly 
or interested me so vividly. I had always hated 
sectarian bickering. I had myself lost the religious 
impulse largely owing to theological contentions. 
And now it seemed possible to me that humanity 
might tear itself free from the frightful absurdities 
of these childish quarrels. The thought of God, 
which had become so real to so many, might break 
the spell of sectarianism, might liberate the soul 
from its theological prison and set it free in the 
pure air of adoration. What a destiny ! What a 
victory for Christ ! What a fulfilment of the words, 
I will draw all men unto Me! 

It is a curious fact that with this impulse very 
strong in my mind I rejected the thought of sending 
my excuses to Lady Edmund Peverel and to the 
Lullingtons. I did not feel as the Bishop of Brompton 
felt that to go out to dinner was waste of time. I 
did not feel a call to throw myself into the 
work which had just presented itself so attrac- 


ETERNAL UNITY 219 

tively to my mind. I was perfectly calm and 
detached. 

The thought of my vision in Piccadilly — the 
vision of the Angel Child — filled my mind with 
calm. I felt the Presence of God with humanity. 
I was convinced that there was no hurry. At 
the same time I acknowledged in my soul the 
wisdom of Dr. Garth’s anxiety concerning re- 
action. 

Without haste I sat down and wrote three very 
similar notes to friends of mine on the staff of The 
Times and Morning Post and Daily Chronicle. I 
merely suggested to them that it might be wise, in 
their comments on the events of this strange day, 
to express the hope that the Churches would now 
sink minor differences and unite their forces for the 
interests of morality. In each letter I said that 
the only permanent and hopeless division among 
men was the moral division of good and evil. This 
phrase was used, albeit with difference of expression, 
in the three newspapers. Thus was set moving, 
thanks to Dr. Garth, that great unifying impulse 
towards Christian co-operation which seems now 
as if it has definitely transformed religious ac- 
tivity and broadened the charity of the Christian 
Church. 

When I had sent off these notes I dressed for 


220 


ETERNAL UNITY 


dinner, observing for the first time that there was 
a small dark bruise between my eyes. I left 
my room soon after seven o’clock and drove 
to Lady Edmund Peverel’s house in Beauchamp 
Gardens, 


CHAPTER XVm 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 
HEN my cab turned into Piccadilly I saw that 



* ’ the excitement of the afternoon had subsided. 
But the crowded street presented an unusual 
spectacle. There was an entire absence of the vicious 
and tragic element. The clubs appeared to be 
almost empty. The people walking on the pave- 
ments were moving with the pace and earnestness 
of an army. They seemed to me hurrying forward 
to a work of importance. I observed many clergy- 
men in this unending procession of humanity ; the 
women were evidently those who at that hour would 
usually be with their families. This great thronging 
crowd moving towards the centre of London sug- 
gested to my mind a meeting of the British Associa- 
tion or a Church Congress. 

I wondered what was the cause of their presence 
and what the spring of their energy, but as I looked 
at them I was thinking chiefly of my vision that 
afternoon, hoping that I might again see the spirit 


221 


222 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


Child moving in the midst of the populace. In this 
I was disappointed, although I was destined once 
again to see that beautiful Presence. 

Lady Edmund Peverel received me in the drawing- 
room, but excusing herself to the other people there 
and without introducing me to anybody, or even 
suffering me to greet her children, she carried me at 
once to her boudoir on the floor above. 

“ We both know now,” she said, with kindling 
eyes, “ what has happened ! Isn’t it glorious ? We 
need not bother ourselves to find the cause. One 
word is enough. It is God.” 

“ Yes,” I replied, “ it is God.” 

“ I expect your mind is full of the big things,” 
she said, making me sit down close to her ; “ the 
extraordinary turn in politics, for instance ? ” 

“ No ; that does not seem to me important.” 

“ What interests you most, then ? ” 

“ A union of the Churches.” 

“ That is unimportant, too ! ” she answered. 

“You are so happy with to-day, that you can 
spare no thoughts for to-morrow.” 

She shook her head. “ You are so influenced by 
yesterday,” she replied, “ that you do not realise 
what has happened to-day. There is only one 
Church. All those little buildings of brick and stone, 
with their painted glass and their carved wood, and 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


223 


their embroideries and brass, and their little set 
ceremonies, and their little services of formalism — 
they are the dolls’-houses of religion. The House of 
God is the World. The only real Church is the 
company of all those who love God and live to do 
His Will. What does it matter whether the dolls’- 
houses are friendly or unfriendly ? God has mani- 
fested Himself to the World.” 

I did not argue. I wanted to know what had 
happened to her since we parted. She was only 
too eager to narrate her story. 

“ I will tell you something,” she began, “ that, 
manlike, you will probably regard as trivial and 
silly. But I think it’s immensely important, im- 
mensely ! ” She laughed and challenged me with 
her bright eyes. “ You know that I have been an 
ardent Suffragette, not one of those hateful militants, 
of course, but a sensible and practical Suffragette. 
Well, what do you think ? I had scarcely got home 
after depositing your bag in Hertford Street — for 
which, by the way, you have expressed no thanks, 
nor for my payment of your enormous cab fare — 
Oh, no, please don’t ! — well, I had hardly got home 
when to my astonishment, to my utmost consterna- 
tion, Mrs. Frothingham was announced. You know 
how I have opposed her. You know how I have 
abused her. You know how I have hated her. And 


224 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


here she was — this Fire-eater of the Militants — call- 
ing to see me ! At first — what do you think ? — why, 
I was afraid ! Yes, I thought she would set fire to 
the house, or stab me with a hatpin, at any rate, 
that she would billingsgate me. And I was afraid. 
But after a moment I became self-possessed, and 
all the wonders that I had seen in poor East London 
came back to my mind to calm me and reassure 
me. I said to myself, 4 1 will go and plead with 
her.’ 

“ My dear Robert, when I went in to see her she 
came towards me with both her hands extended, 
the sweetest smile on her face you ever saw — she’s a 
most beautiful woman, you know — and she said to 
me, ‘ Lady Edmund, you and I must be friends — for 
Christ's sake' I shall never forget that greeting. 
I was carried away by it. Nothing can describe the 
look in her eyes — it was deep, deep, deep with 
spiritual love. All the hard handsomeness of her 
face vanished. It was tender and sweet, positively 
tender and sweet. She has suffered frightfully, and 
the look of suffering in her face became saintlike 
and adorable in its gentle tenderness. I was over- 
come. She seemed the most lofty soul I had ever 
confronted. I surrendered to the graciousness with 
which she enveloped me. What do you think I did ? 
I lifted her hands to kiss them. And, Robert, she 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


225 


took me into her arms, like a mother embracing her 
daughter, and kissed my brow. ‘ We are friends,’ 
she said, in her wonderful voice, ‘ friends, remember, 
for Christ’s sake, which means, friends for ever.’ 

“ And then, Robert, she told me why she had 
come. She said that early in the morning she had 
wakened with a feeling of great fear. She felt, not 
that something dreadful was about to happen, but 
that something dreadful had happened, and that 
she had been responsible for it. And then, she told 
me, as she sat there in her bed, guilty and alarmed, 
the thought of God’s existence struck her like a 
blow. Yes, she said, it struck her, literally struck 
her, shattering everything of which she had ever 
thought, so that she fell back on her pillows and 
was stunned. When she recovered consciousness, 
she said that her heart filled slowly and gratefully 
with a sense of happiness, as if she had dreamed 
some beautiful dream in her trance. And this 
happiness came only, she said, from the knowledge 
of God’s existence. 

“ And as she lay there, spelled by the exquisite 
glory of her knowledge — oh, I wish you could have 
heard her tell it ! — quietly and gradually she saw 
that her life’s work had been a revolt and a rebellion 
— not against the laws of man, but against the 
Lamb of God. She had revolted, she had rebelled, 


226 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


against the Lamb of God. Instead of meekness, 
lowliness, gentleness, resignation, and submission, 
she had employed violence and aggression. She 
had followed the Tiger, not the Lamb. She had 
defied Christ, she had flouted Christ, she had thrust 
Him behind her. And for what purpose ? To gain 
a vote ! 

“ Then, Robert, she spoke of all the sin in the 
world, and all the suffering, and all the bitter 
sorrow, and she said that her life henceforth, in 
the Name of Christ, was to be given to service of 
humanity. God had called her, she said, to work 
for the poor and sorrowful. It was to be at once her 
reparation and her reward. At first she had con- 
templated a resignation of her positions in the 
Suffragette Movement, but something had checked 
her, something had told her that she must make 
reparation for the frightful spirit she had called into 
action among women. And at last it was given her 
to see what she should do. And what do you think 
it is ? It is a conversion of the Suffragette Movement 
into a movement for the spiritual uplifting of women 
throughout the whole world. She had called to see 
some of her party before coming to me. Only a 
very few opposed her. The majority leapt to the 
idea, touched by the same religious impulse that 
has visited so many of us to-day. And she wanted 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


227 


me to join with her, to bring my party over to hers, 
in the same great cause — the spiritual uplifting of 
womanhood throughout the world. 

“ Instead of working for women as if this life 
ended everything, and as if this world contained the 
whole universe, and as if legislation could really 
alter the fundamentals of existence, we are going 
to work for women’s immortal welfare, for their 
spiritual welfare. Everything is to be done in the 
perspective of eternity. We are going to make the 
mothers of the future the grandest women that 
have ever lived. We are going to purify and 
sanctify the human race at its fount. Instead of 
working for political purposes, our whole great 
movement is going to work for moral purposes. And 
when we have got the women of the world, we shall 
have got the men of the world. If political justice 
for women should still be necessary then, we shall 
simply ask men for it, and we shall get it — for they 
will he the sons of good women. 

“ And now, you will smile, you will think me 
small and foolish, for I am going to descend to 
details.” 

She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the 
mantelpiece. “You can spare me just five minutes 
more ? ” she inquired, turning quickly to me again. 

“ I shall be late for dinner,” I replied, “ but to- 


228 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


night the cook is not important. I wonder if a single 
hostess in London is worrying about her dinner.” 

“ Oh, yes. Don’t make any mistake. Plenty of 
people are utterly untouched by this miracle. I’m 
sure of it. If it were not so, life would be heaven. 
We shall have to work. We shall have to plead.” 

“ Descend to your details, please.” 

“ Yes, I want to tell you.” 

She seemed to study me with more attention, as if 
she were particularly anxious to mark the effect of 
her words upon my mind. I can see her now, finger- 
ing the long chain suspended from her shoulders, her 
beautiful, gentle, careworn face warm with earnest- 
ness, her eyes watching me so anxiously. She 
noticed the bruise between my eyes and remarked 
upon it. When I had satisfied her curiosity she 
proceeded wth her details. “ Do you know that 
dress is a very serious thing ? ” she asked. “ I mean 
from the psychological point of view. Carlyle left 
out the most important chapter of Sartor Resartus. 
His world contained no women . 1 The question of 
feminine raiment and its influence on morality is a 
big question, a serious question. As a Suffragette I 
believe that the world is very largely what it is 
through the influence of women. Woman seems to 

1 My friend forgot Book II, Chapter V, with its reference to 
holy women “ hovering mute and inaccessible on the outskirts of 
./Esthetic Tea.” 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


229 


me not only the fount of life, but the fount of 
spiritual influence. Leave out of count the tre- 
mendous matter of pre-natal influence, and consider 
the enormous field of woman’s direct and actual 
influence. The babes of the whole world lie at her 
breast and are utterly in her hands till their souls 
are self-conscious. After that, if she so choose, 
none can rival her influence throughout the whole 
period of childhood. And then with youth comes 
the other influence of woman, the sexual influence 
which may be either wonderful or base. And after 
that there is the influence of wifehood. Is it not 
in her hands to shape men ? Is it not in her 
power to give them the direction of their lives ? Is 
it not her responsibility to form the Character of 
the World? 

“ You agree. Well, woman, we think, is herself 
influenced, and in no minor degree, by her clothing. 
The spirit of the harem has got into the milliner’s 
window. Woman in Europe is free, but the old 
heredity of subjection rules her mind. She thinks 
she must practise coquetry. She thinks she must 
make her appeal to the lowest region of man’s nature. 
She is the one thing feminine throughout creation 
that does not leave coquetry to the masculine 
gender. 

“ You must agree to that, too ; and then it won’t 


230 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


be necessary for me to keep you beyond the five 
minutes ! ” She glanced again at the clock. “ I 
must make an end,” she said, turning round her 
head. “ Briefly, then, we are going to organise 
an immense campaign against the courtesan influ- 
ence in raiment. Instead of a campaign for votes, 
we are going to begin a campaign for modesty, for 
simplicity, for dignity. Don’t smile at our idea. 
I am sure it is practical and wise. Look at it from 
the man’s standpoint. Men now are attracted by 
prettiness and frippery. In the zenith of their 
youthful susceptibility, dazzled by a little fluff, 
intoxicated even by the narrowness of a shoe, they 
make choice of a wife — they choose the mothers of 
posterity ! Will it not be a good thing for men, and 
a very good thing for posterity, if we present 
ourselves before them in nobler guise and with 
more splendid attractions ? 

“ Well, that is what we are going to do,” she 
exclaimed, getting up. “ If you meet any sensible 
women at the Lullingtons’, tell them to come to me 
for the new Woman’s Movement ! We must enlist 
everybody with power and influence. But really, 
Robert, don’t you think we are setting out on the 
right lines ? There is something unseemly, surely, in 
our present fashions. There is something definitely 
flagrantly irreligious in the very spirit of women’s 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


231 


dress. One cannot even think of St. Mary in the 
dress of to-day — cannot even think of it. But 
why ? Evidently our dress must be sinful and bad 
as well as vulgar. 

“ Now, you must go. But bless our movement 
with your approval, and help it with your good 
wishes. You don’t think we are stupid, do you ? 
You see the importance of it ? No woman who 
really believes in God could go about the world 
robed like a courtesan. Her influence must be bad. 
And if we can alter that, shall we not alter many 
other things with it ? ” 

I took her kind hand in mine. “ Blessings on your 
movement,” I said, “ and without one smallest 
smile, without one smallest criticism.” 

“ I am so glad,” she said. “ You don’t know the 
exultation this movement gives one. Mrs. Frothing- 
ham told me that it was fifty thousand times more 
inspiring than campaigning for a vote. Think of it, 
a campaign for modesty, for simplicity, for dignity. 
A campaign against folly and vice. A campaign for 
the motherhood of humanity ! ” 

As I was going down the stairs, I said to her : 
“ Let me give you an idea. In every field of life, 
this great tidal wave of religious feeling is going to 
obliterate the confusions of our old unintelligent 
divisions. When it has passed, our business will be 


232 


THE WOMAN’S MOVEMENT 


to set up the one and only division which really 
matters — the division of Good and Evil. If you do 
that in the world of women you will accomplish a 
great work. Dress among women, the spirit of the 
looking-glass, more than anything else has tended 
to tone away that shade of difference, which is the 
difference between light and darkness. I am sure 
it will be a better world, a much better world, when 
all good women stand clear away from everything 
that is marked with the mark of evil. At the 
present day, as you know, whether it be at the 
Opera, at Goodwood, in Bond Street, or on the 
Riviera, it is not always easy to distinguish the 
mother of daughters from the mistress of that 
mother’s son. I think that ladies nowadays imitate 
the courtesans ; in my youth, it was the courtesan 
who tried to dress like a lady.” 

It is a curious fact that as I uttered these last 
words there revived in my memory the scene 
before the music-hall which had led to my acquaint- 
ance with the dead babe. I seemed to see descending 
the stairs in front of me a young girl with lifted 
skirts and with silly gilt shoes which appeared to 
me malicious and devilish. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A DINNER PARTY 

1%/rRS. LULLINGTON’S guests were talking 
eagerly and excitedly of the events of the 
day when I arrived at the house a few minutes 
after eight o’clock. The event which most interested 
them was the debate in the House of Commons. 
The action of the Opposition was universally 
condemned. 

I was struck by the appearance of the women, 
coming as I did straight from my conversation 
with Lady Edmund Peverel. These women, I am 
perfectly sure, were all virtuous and of unblemished 
reputation. They were rather brilliant and clever. 
It would have been difficult in any capital of the 
world to find a company of women more polished 
and well-bred. But in the manner of their dress 
there was no difference whatever between these 
beautiful and virtuous creatures of London society 
and the more prosperous cocottes of the Parisian 
demi-monde . 


233 


234 


A DINNER PARTY 


This dinner party was the strangest experience 
of the most wonderful day in my life. I must 
endeavour to set down as clearly as possible the 
spirit of that entertainment and the effect it made 
upon me. For I suppose, if it can be faithfully done, 
a description of this party may help usefully a 
future and a more spiritual generation to understand 
the subtle as well as the immense change which was 
effected at this period of civilisation in the spirit of 
our national life. 

To begin with, I would have the reader know 
that there was no one of that company whose 
presence could be considered an affront to the 
Bishop of Brompton — the guest who did not come. 
The men were eminent in politics, in literature, and 
in science. The women, as I have already said, 
were virtuous and well-bred. Nothing was done, 
nothing was said, in the least degree offensive to 
the very nicest propriety. And yet I never felt in 
my life more wretched and unhappy, more com- 
pletely out of harmony with my fellow-creatures. 
Not a single, person of that company had been 
touched by the miracle. Not one of them had the 
least welcome for the change. 

The man most in evidence as I entered the room 
was a distinguished Politician. He stood with his 
back to the mantelpiece, his hands thrust in his 


A DINNER PARTY 


235 


trouser pockets, his shoulders more humped and 
crouching than usual, his head sunk, his hard long- 
chinned hatchet face gloomed with bitterness. 

On one side of him was a famous Professor of 
Physics — fat, coarse, elephantine, and plethoric. 
On the other was a clever Author, enjoying just 
then a fashionable reputation for his remorseless 
realism in the region of disagreeable sexualism. 
The Politician was speaking slowly and sulkily, 
with great bitterness. As he spoke he shuffled 
with one of his shoes on the hearth-rug, as though 
impatient to be kicking someone. The Professor, 
whose large face wore the cheerful waiting smile 
of one anxious to break in with some amusing 
remark, was picking at his watch-chain and turning 
it over in his fingers, while his eyes darted to right 
and left of him at the other people in the room. 
The Author, facing towards the Politician, was 
studying his own reflection in the glass. 

In front of this group were three or four ladies 
seated in low chairs, who were rather painfully 
affecting the greatest interest in politics. Their 
brows were contracted, their heads were at in- 
quiring angles, their eyes — which wandered every 
now and then quickly and guiltily to their skirts 
and the tips of their shoes — were almost fixed in 
concentration. 


236 


A DINNER PARTY 


Lullington stood among these chairs — a broad- 
shouldered, corpulent, red-faced host; as honest a 
man, I think, as ever lived to enjoy himself, as 
kind-hearted and tolerant a man as ever did without 
brains. 

“ Well,” said the Politician, giving me a nod, 
“ what do you think of it ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Lullington, with a chuckle 
that made his cheeks shake, “ here’s our Machiavelli 
of politics. Yes. What do you think about it ? ” 
He put up his eyeglass and beamed down upon the 
ladies expectant of smiles. 

The Professor regarded me with pursed lips and 
a frown of disapproval. The Author examined me 
with a professional interest, but rather languidly. He 
turned the rings on his fingers as he took my measure. 

Mrs. Lullington sailed towards us before I could 
answer. The ladies in the chairs began to talk 
among themselves. 

Mrs. Lullington said to me : “ Isn’t it dreadful ? 
Or, don’t you think it is dreadful ? ” She glanced 
about her, her long earrings shaking, her chains 
tinkling, her thin pretty face flushed and excited. 
“ The Bishop of Brompton was to be here, but he has 
lost his head in the general excitement. What can 
it be ? What has happened to the world ? And 
this utterly mad thing in the House of Commons. 


A DINNER PARTY 


237 


But perhaps you don’t think it is mad. What do 
you think of it ? Do tell us. I’m longing to hear 
what you think. But what is that bruise on your 
forehead ? Have you been fighting ? ” She ended 
by introducing me to the Author. 

I forget what I said in answer to the question of 
the Politician, but it was a reply which did not 
commit me. At that moment dinner was announced, 
and we went down the stairs, a party of fourteen. 
The lady on my arm said to me, “ I think General 
Booth must have come back again ! ” She ex- 
pressed her satisfaction that there was at least 
one house in London where dinner would be served 
in the ordinary way. 

“ And without Grace,” I said. 

“ Oh, I hope it will never come to that ! ” she 
exclaimed, laughing. 

I felt like a man in a dream. The large and 
beautiful room, with its deep crimson hangings, 
its soft lights, its brilliant table gorgeous with rare 
flowers and shining with the deep lustre of silver, 
the women with their naked breasts and arms, the 
men with their hard or sensual faces, the unneces- 
sarily numerous servants in dark liveries moving 
to and fro, the oppressive atmosphere of the warm, 
scented room, the sense of an utterly ignorant and 
unashamed luxury in the dishes, the silly chatter, 


238 


A DINNER PARTY 


the insolent comments on things of the deepest and 
profoundest moment — these things hit hard upon 
my awakened conscience. I experienced the feelings 
of a Puritan. 

Mrs. Lullington told me afterwards that she 
thought I must be ill, so depressed did I seem, so 
silent and morose. She noticed the bruise on my 
forehead and was curious to ask me if I had fallen, 
but feared a possible awkwardness in the question. 
“ You are always restrained,” she said ; “ you are 
sometimes very reticent ; but on that occasion 
you were really an ogre. It was not the absence 
of the Bishop, but your presence that spoilt my 
dinner party.” 

The truth is I found everything very disagreeable. 
I saw the people, I saw this particular way of living, 
I saw this particular way of thinking, in a new light. 
The whole thing appeared to me now unreal and 
yet unseemly, meaningless and yet profane, frivolous 
and yet perilous. There were times when I was 
seized by a frantic desire to overturn the table and 
thunder anathema : times when I only wanted to 
flee from the cruelty and discomfort of an atmo- 
sphere merely discordant : times when I took a 
savage pleasure in studying my fellow-guests, like 
so many insects, with contempt and delight in their 
certain destruction. 


A DINNER PARTY 


239 


The Author, who was sitting on the opposite 
side of the table, had evidently learned that I was 
a person of some importance. He laid himself out 
to please me. He let me see that he set no store on 
the beautiful woman beside his chair. His eyes 
constantly sought mine with an understanding 
smile. He dropped his languid manner. He became 
charming and agreeable. He talked to attract my 
attention. 

Towards the end of the meal he spoke to me about 
French literature, with which he was well acquainted, 
and made an amusing comparison between the 
cleverest Frenchmen and the most popular English 
novelists. He asked me to agree that we in England 
had not yet perceived the seriousness of the novel. 
Only second-rate English writers, he said, took the 
novel seriously, and they were too serious. “ They 
give us the religious novel,” he declared ; “ nothing 
could be more tedious ! But in England to be 
serious is to be religious. It is our one conception 
of seriousness.” 

I asked him if reality was not essential to a good 
novel. My natural mood of agreeableness deserted 
me ; I was annoyed to find myself speaking 
trenchantly and with a hateful note of self-assertion 
in my voice. 

He agreed. 


240 


A DINNER PARTY 


“ Can there be reality without religion ? ” I 
asked, in the same spirit, powerless to fight against 
it. 

“ Oh, surely ! ” he exclaimed. “ At least I hope 
so ! It would be dreadful if it were not so.” 

“ I thought man’s attitude to the universe was 
the essential soul of life’s reality.” 

“ But does he not reveal that attitude in his 
human existence ? ” 

“ By ignoring it ? ” I asked. 

“ Well, that is perhaps the modern tendency. 
Humanity has become tired of asking questions. 
The heavens, you will admit, do not keep up a 
particularly lively conversation with us. They are 
rather dull, those heavens. If they spoke a little 
more and rained a little less how much nicer it 
would be ! Wouldn’t it ? Oh, one must surely 
live the life of this world and leave the sequel to 
the gods. Only a superman can write a good 
sequel. Don’t you agree ? ” 

I knew I could not make him understand, but I 
said : “ My point is that no one can live the life of 
this world intelligently without religion. One may 
write novels about eating and drinking, chatting 
and giggling, without religion ; but one cannot 
write a novel about life, about the great things in 
life, without it. The temperaments of over-civilised 


A DINNER PARTY 


241 


women may be interesting, but they are not so 
important to humanity as immortality. A man 
to whom God is Reality will hardly be able to leave 
religion out of his novels. You will agree that the 
modern novel would be very different if it were 
perfectly certain that God exists. In any case, I 
devoutly hope that the clever novel will pass away. 
I am quite sure that people will be reading the 
Psalms long after our realists are forgotten — not 
because the Psalms are better literature, but because 
they express the deepest feelings of the human 
heart. Death and Sorrow will outlast our epigrams.” 

He raised his hands for a moment in pious horror, 
but laughed amiably and exclaimed : “ The first 
infirmity of writers is to think of royalties : the 
last, to think of posterity ! There is only one 
posterity — it is the choicest spirits of our contem- 
poraries. Oh, but, of course, I agree.” His face 
affected seriousness. “ There must be the spirit of 
religion in a good book. There is the spirit of religion 
in all great art — painting, music, sculpture. Wilde 
felt that, did he not ? But the religious novel is not 
religious. It is only dreary.” 

“ But the spirit of religion in the modern novel 
is the spirit of frank agnosticism.” 

“ Not frank, I think. A little jaded, a little 
regretful, or little wistful, but not frank. We are 


242 


A DINNER PARTY 


sorrowful. The gods are dead. We are in mourning 
for them.” He raised his glass and drank with the 
air of a comic undertaker. 

The Professor, sitting on the other side of my 
right-hand neighbour, had been listening to our 
conversation. He leaned towards the Novelist and 
said, “ You ought not to ignore religion.” 

The Novelist raised his eyebrows. “ I am beset 
on all sides ! ” he exclaimed. 

“You ought to attack it ! ” said the Professor. 
He drew his napkin coarsely across his mouth, and 
leaning still further over the table proceeded to 
say that the novel would never be taken seriously 
until it ranged itself definitely on the side of science. 
The novel, he said, ought to be the enemy of super- 
stition. Instead of mourning for dead gods the 
novelist should be charging at the head of the legions 
of civilisation against the humbug of creeds. “ Why 
don’t you come to us for your inspiration ? ” he 
asked ; “ or if you don’t like the word, for your 
ammunition ? We can supply you, I assure you 
we can.” 

I looked at him and asked : “ Have you really 
settled everything ? ” 

“ That’s rather a foolish question, if you’ll allow 
me to say so,” he said, meeting my eyes only 
for a moment and looking across the table to the 


A DINNER PARTY 243 

Novelist. “ We are clearing away the rubbish of the 
past. . . .” 

“And with that rubbish goes God ? ” I inquired. 

“ Yes, if you like to put it so.” He laughed, 
rolling his bloodshot eyes upon me. 

“ Would it not be more modest,” I asked, “ before 
getting rid of God, to explain so elementary a thing 
as the beginning of life on this trivial planet ? ” 

“ Forgive me, you are evidently not acquainted 
with modern discovery.” 

“ Discovery ! ” 

“ Well ? ” He was quite angry with me and 
challenged me rudely. I detested this man — a 
butcher. 

“ You have discovered, then, the origin of life 
on this planet ? ” I asked. “ You have discovered ? 
You know ? ” 

“ Sufficient for our purpose. We know enough 
to do without six days of creation ! ” 

“ On the contrary,” I said, “ you know only that 
you do not know. Oh, please, you must not ful- 
minate ! Science is by no means yet in a position 
to set up her Vatican. Professors must behave 
as modestly as clergymen. Pray remember that 
you cannot tell us how the least of germs contrived 
to exist on this red-hot and flaming planet when it 
came from the sun. You guess that a shower of 


244 


A DINNER PARTY 


meteoric dust descended when the earth was cool. 
In that way came life — the rose, the butterfly, the 
stag, the forest, and the fields. And in that way 
came man — with his mathematics, his music, and 
his theories of the cosmos. Are you respectful to 
the meaning of words when you speak of this 
fantastic supposition as a discovery ? ” 

The Novelist laughed in a gentle and pacifying 
manner. “ How delicious,” he exclaimed, “ to see 
men seriously concerned with origins ! And that 
idea,” he bowed to me, “ of the red-hot fuliginous 
earth leaping out of the sun — how picturesque, 
how wonderful ! I had never thought about it. 
The most tenacious of microbes, I am told, gives 
up the ghost in a pot of boiling water. How did life 
come ? — how could life come ? ” He turned to 
the Professor, reproachful, smiling, pleased with 
himself. “ Yes, really, that’s most interesting. 
How did life begin on a red-hot poker of a planet ? ” 

“ And why,” I asked, “ did the shower of meteoric 
dust stop abruptly ? why is it not bringing new 
forms of life to us now, and, above all, whence did 
it come ? ” 

The Professor had turned his shoulder and was 
talking to a neighbour. 

When the ladies had retired, leaving their little 
gold-tipped cigarettes smouldering in their coflee- 


A DINNER PARTY 


245 


saucers, conversation turned solely upon the political 
emergence of the day. 

The Politician was the person of importance. 
He slouched low in his chair, on the right of Lulling- 
ton, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigar 
which he continually tapped on a plate in front of 
him. 

We grouped ourselves about him, and he spoke 
angrily of the pass into which the debate had landed 
the party. 

“ But the newspapers ? ” asked Lullington. 

A young man said, “ I saw Waterhouse this 
afternoon. He was just going off to see the Editor 
of the Daily Mail” 

“ Is there an Editor of the Daily Mail ? ” asked 
the Author, raising his eyebrows. 

“ The halfpenny newspapers,” said the Politician, 
who did not join in the laughter, “ are the only 
newspapers that people read, and they have no 
influence. None whatever. They blaze at this 
confounded Government for gagging debate in the 
House of Commons, and they themselves give half 
a column to our speeches ! No ! The thing’s done, 
and we shall have to fight in opposition for five 
years more.” He looked across the table at me and 
asked : “ Have you heard anything ? ” 

I shook my head. 


246 


A DINNER PARTY 


“ What do you think of it ? ” he demanded. 

“ From a party point of view,” I replied, “ I 
should say it is bad for your side.” 

“Exactly,” he said; “it’s fatal.” 

“ But from a national point of view,” I went on, 
“ I should think it might be useful.” 

“ That’s part of the general madness,” he said 
contemptuously. “ The whole genius of our political 
system is the conflict between two schools of thought. 
Directly there is fusion you throw the reins on the 
neck of reform. There is no check. The thing runs 
away with you.” 

“ But the country is in a bad way ? ” I asked, 
watching him. 

“I should say it was quite certainly going to the 
devil,” he answered. 

“In other words, it is on its deathbed? ” 

“ And it won’t be so long about the business as 
Charles the Second ! ” he rejoined. 

“ Well, the two parties are supposed to be looking 
after it,” I said ; “ at any rate their purpose is to 
effect a cure ? ” 

“ Oh, you’re thinking of the speech this after- 
noon ! ” he interrupted, with impatience. “ The 
two doctors in consultation — rhetoric, sentiment, 
humbug, rot ! That part of the speech made me 
feel sick.” 


A DINNER PARTY 


247 


The Professor laughed. “ I should think so,” 
he said. “ It would make any rational man feel 
sick.” 

“ But do men of science arrive at scientific 
truth,” I asked, “ by fighting each other ? ” 

The Politician sat up in his chair and bent over 
the plate in front of him, looking down at the ash 
he had patterned with the end of his cigar. “ Poli- 
tics is a different game from anything else in life. 
You can’t compare it,” he said. “ An Opposition 
is bound to oppose. And the fundamental difference 
between Tory and Radical admits of no co-opera- 
tion. They can never be allies. They must always 
be at war. It is largely a matter of class feeling. 
We stand for the ancient arrangement of society. 
We don’t like the mob, we distrust the mob, and 
we hate the mob. If we had our way we’d change 
the franchise wholesalely. We believe in reform 
as the considered judgment of aristocratic power, 
not as the appetite of a dirty, ignorant democracy. 
Radicals know jolly well that democracy is a great 
fat, greasy, drunken beast. A fellow like Lloyd 
George, with the soul of a Baptist minister or a 
Wesleyan greengrocer, may pretend to love the 
people ; but the rest of them hate the people just 
as much as we do. Of course they do. Who could 
love the mob ? Who could ? No ; it’s all balder- 


248 


A DINNER PARTY 


dash. Look at the difference between us ! The 
Tory stands for individualism, for keeping the ring, 
for letting things work themselves out with as little 
interference as possible. The Radical stands for 
perpetual interference. Doctors in consultation ! 
The Tory wants nature to cure the patient with a 
little help from nursing and medicine. The Radical 
wants to cut him up and see what’s going on in- 
side ! ” 

He got up, heavy and lumbering and dis- 
gusted, lifting his cigar to his mouth. “ It’s all 

d d rot ! ” he said savagely. “ Something has 

happened like a burst of fanaticism. Men are losing 
their heads. They talk about political economy 
and morals in the same breath. It’s a madness. 
How the devil the thing has happened so suddenly, 
I can’t for the life of me make out, but that’s what 
it is — an outbreak of fanaticism, of religious zeal ! 
God help the country ! ” 

He laid his cigar down and looked at the clock. 

I was struck by my inability to argue with him, 
or to speak with enthusiasm of the new movement 
in religion. That morning I had kissed the cheek 
of a drunkard. I had allowed a hooligan to strike 
me. I had appealed to the lowest of men and women 
to think of their souls. And here I was speechless 
and contemptuous among men of education. 


A DINNER PARTY 


249 


Why could I not speak now as I had spoken a 
few hours before ? Where was the glow, the thrill, 
the passion of my conscious spiritual life ? 

What most struck me about these people was 
their hardness . The doors of their minds and the 
doors of their hearts were closed, and those doors 
were of brass. They had no pity for suffering or 
distress, no sympathy for pain and sorrow, no 
anxiety to learn the truth of actual existence. Life 
was good for them, and they wished life to be as it 
was. Disturbance of any kind angered them. They 
lived as if there was no peril in the world’s unrest. 

As we went upstairs to the drawing-room, the 
chatter of these men about me, I found myself 
repeating the words, Cast not your pearls before 
swine . And then at the door came those words, 
There are some that would not be persuaded though 
one rose from the dead. 

Mrs. Lullington almost ran towards her husband 
as we entered the room. “ Rex ! ” she exclaimed, 
all her jewellery tinkling and her hands clasped at 
her breast, “ what do you think Angela has just 
told me ? What do you think ? Lily Carruthers 
has gone off with Dicky Finch 1 ” 


CHAPTER XX 


TWO MYSTICS 

F ULL-ORBED and with a burning radiance the 
moon rose that night above the roofs of Lon- 
don. I walked gladly away from the Lullingtons’ 
house. There was a sense of grateful freshness, 
almost of cold, in the night air. A wonderful charm 
breathed from the curtained houses and through the 
long street twinkling with lights. Something of 
superhuman mystery and something of quite simple 
human kindness came to me in this atmosphere of 
the great city. It was good to be out in the open air. 
It was good to be in London, at the very heart of 
the world, conscious of God. 

I lost the feeling of discordance which had 
troubled me. I moved at every step into a closer 
harmony with existence. My faith recovered its 
tranquillity. My soul rose again into the luminous 
heaven of delicious imagination with the thought of 
God for her wings. What mattered anything now ? 
Why be troubled by littleness, by trivial vul- 
250 


TWO MYSTICS 251 

garity, even by ignorant hardness of heart ? God 
existed ! 

I lifted up my heart as I walked. I repeated in my 
mind, with a feeling of the most splendid joy, words 
I had not heard since boyhood — Lift up your 
hearts ! We lift them up unto the Lord. Let us give 
thanks unto our Lord God. It is meet and right so to 
do. It is very meet , right , and our bounden duty , that 
we should at all times , and in all places , give thanks 
unto Thee , 0 Lord , Holy Father , Almighty, Everlasting 
God. 

I found myself laughing aloud. The thought of 
the Author had presented itself suddenly to my 
mind. I recalled his epigram about the heavens 
that rained and did not speak. I wondered if he 
would ever live to compare such kindergarten 
utterance with the exclamation, nay, the paean of a 
soul conscious of mystery, conscious of grandeur, 
conscious of bliss — Lift up your hearts ! We lift 
them up unto the Lord. . . . 

The Professor’s face swam into my vision, and his 
harsh, truculent assertive voice rasped upon my 
memory. I laughed again. How droll, how pre- 
posterous, how immodest, the attitude of that little 
mind to the fathomless and boundless universe 
filled full with the majesty of God ! Did he never 
get away from his test-tubes, his balances, his 


252 


TWO MYSTICS 


microscope, his text-books, and stand still, perfectly 
still, on the thin crest of this enormous star, looking 
up into eternity, gazing onward into infinity ? Lift 
up your hearts ! Had he even written words that 
would live as long as these ? We lift them up unto 
the Lord! Had he ever glimpsed the wonder of 
spiritual exaltation ? It is very meet , right , and our 
bounden duty , that we should at all times , and in all 
places , give thanks unto Thee , 0 Lord , Holy Father , 
Almighty , Everlasting God. 

And then, looking up into the clear sky, and past 
the rapture of the bright moon into the depths of 
space, I felt myself one with the multitudinous 
hosts of God exulting in their power to praise, 
rejoicing in their capacity to love. Therefore with 
Angels and Archangels , and all the company of heaven 
we laud and magnify Thy glorious Name , evermore 
praising Thee , and saying , Holy , holy , holy , Lord God 
of hosts , heaven and earth are full of Thy glory : 
Glory be to Thee , 0 Lord most High. 

My joy was unbroken, my bliss was untroubled, 
when the thought of the embittered Politician 
suddenly presented itself before my mind. It seemed 
to me amusingly incredible that men should earnestly 
and even painfully concern themselves with the 
arid business of politics, the quarrelsome, vulgar, and 
abortive business of politics, when all that the world 


TWO MYSTICS 


253 


needed for millennium, obviously and beyond cavil, 
was faith in God. Could anything effect more for 
humanity than faith in God ? Could any law bring 
peace on earth, goodwill towards men without faith 
in God ? If everybody had enough to eat, and lived 
in comfortable houses, and did not have to work 
over-hard, would there not still be something lacking, 
would not the basic problem of man’s unrest still 
remain unsolved ? Why baffle the brain with 
problems that must for ever remain insoluble without 
faith in God ? Faith in God ! A God of Love. An 
everlasting God. A God Who had created man for 
Himself. A GocJ, the very thought of Whom 
drenches the soul to drowning with ineffable, 
unutterable bliss ? And they talk of wages, of 
housing, of insurance, of establishing this and 
disestablishing that ! Lift up your hearts unto the 
Lord. 

Then I saw that the old world was passing away, 
that a new world was at birth. I said to myself, 
“ Think no more of politics, concern yourself with 
nothing in the past, set your thoughts solely on this 
new world born with the thought of God.” 

At the end of the street where I was walking three 
drunken roughs appeared, arm in arm, sprawling 
and lurching, and singing hideously at the tops of 
their husky voices. I watched their approach with 


254 


TWO MYSTICS 


a feeling of disgust. I wondered how long it must be 
before the new world was rid of such degradation, 
such hideous and repellent defamation of God’s 
purpose. 

They were bawling a sentimental music-hall song 
about love. I sickened and shuddered. The 
travesty set fire to my indignation. “ These,” I 
thought, “ are the swine of whom Christ spoke.” 
The most beautiful passion of the human heart, set 
to almost the most beautiful of all the arts — thus to 
be profaned in the streets by drunken creatures 
meant to be angels, determined to be devils ! 

As these thoughts passed through my mind, two 
women crossed quickly from the opposite side of 
the road, and got in front of the three lurchers. 
The song ceased. One of the drunkards endeavoured 
to embrace the women, and was held up affec- 
tionately by his companions as he stumbled and 
reeled. 

As I drew level with the group, I heard one of 
the women say : “ Suppose somebody is very ill. 
Suppose somebody is dying. Or, suppose some little 
child is just dead, and the father and mother are 
weeping in their grief. How your song must hurt ! 
How your loud voices must pain and distress ! ” 

I stopped to listen ; if need caused, to protect the 
ladies. 


TWO MYSTICS 


255 


One of the drunkards muttered and mumbled : 
“ A man has a right to sing when he’s happy. 
What right have you to interfere ? We’re not 
hurting anybody. We’re not molesting anybody. 
We’re going home, happy and comfortable.” 

The same woman who had spoken before inter- 
rupted him : “ Listen to me, do. You are a man. 
God has given you a brain. You are not an animal, 
and you are not a stone. You can understand what 
is said. How can you be so thoughtless as to go 
shouting and screaming through the streets ? Don’t 
you know that your noise must disturb somebody ? 
Don’t you know that you must disturb and distress 
people ? ” 

The other woman said : “ Besides, you are drunk, 
and you know a man who is drunk ought to creep 
home guilty and ashamed, for he has made himself 
lower than any animal or any insect. A man ought 
not to go home singing when he is drunk. Drunken- 
ness is a sin against God and a sin against man. 
There are only a very few things more disgusting 
than drunkenness.” 

The men were beginning to argue, when the first 
woman said to them : “ Now, don’t say another 
word. You are in a pitiable and a dreadful state. 
You know it. And I expect you have spent money 
that ought to go to your wives and children. I 


256 


TWO MYSTICS 


dare say your wives and children will be hungrier 
and shabbier and colder this week just because you 
are drunk to-night. If you were to die now, what 
could become of you ? Where do you think your 
souls would go ? Are you not guilty of gross and 
cruel sin ? Now, hear me. From to-night no 
drunken man will pass through the streets of London 
without being warned ; and not only will drunken 
men be warned, they will be followed to their homes. 
And very soon their wives and children will be taken 
away from them, and they themselves will be 
locked up and made to work for their wives and 
children until they are fit to five with decent people. 
Can you understand what I say ? Yes, you can 
understand. So go home thinking of what I have 
said to you. Remember, you have no excuse. You 
have been warned. You know right from wrong. 
God will not punish you, but you will punish 
yourselves.” 

After some further words, the drunkards walked 
off, and I spoke to the two ladies as they were 
moving away. 

They told me that some of the chief temperance 
societies had determined that day to conduct a 
personal crusade in the streets, particularly at night. 
“ There are thousands of us, for instance, out to- 
night,” said one of them ; “ some of us actually 


TWO MYSTICS 


257 


sitting in public-houses — for we intend to invade 
the enemy’s territory — and others walking about 
the streets, every one pleading, warning, and helping 
as the various cases demand.” 

The other lady spoke of “ the Revival,” and said 
that it would inspire the temperance societies to a 
much more active crusade. “ We have been,” said 
she, “ far too lax, and far too lazy of recent years. 
We have almost entirely trusted to an education 
propaganda. That is good. But imagine how any 
of us who believe in God could have endured to sit 
calmly and contentedly in our homes while the 
streets were full of drunken men and drunken 
women ! I think we must have been lying under 
some evil enchantment. It seems to us now like a 
madness. Just think of those three dreadful and 
perishing creatures going home without one word of 
warning ! We have spoken to at least thirty other 
drunkards this evening, some of them women. We 
took one poor woman home, and you never saw 
such a pigsty in your life. There were seven children 
waiting for her in terror, half-naked, horribly dirty, 
and so dreadfully hungry ! Three of them were 
hiding under the bed, afraid of her blows — imagine 
that at the centre of Christian civilisation ! We set 
the home to rights, and provided food for the 
children. We shall visit the woman in future till she 


258 


TWO MYSTICS 


reforms. If she does not reform, we shall see that 
she is prosecuted.” 

I took my leave of these vigorous women, and 
continued my way home. 

In Piccadilly the crowd was not at all great, and 
there was no sign of excitement or of lawlessness. 
I had not proceeded far when I encountered the 
clergyman whom I had thought of visiting that 
morning when I left East London — the scholarly 
mystic whose saintly life had made a marked im- 
pression on a rather important quarter of the world. 

He would have passed by me if I had not stopped 
him. His head was lowered, his eyes were bent 
upon the ground, he was walking swiftly with his 
hands behind him. 

“ I wanted very much to see you this morning,” 
I said to him. 

“You would not have found it easy to discover 
me ! ” he replied, with a smile. “ Since six o’clock 
I have been anywhere in London except in my 
room. Do you know that something has happened ? 
The Church is alive ! What do you think of such 
a miracle as that ? ” 

“ Not only the Church,” I said. 

“ Yes,” he said, with emphasis, “ only the Church. 
No one else, and nothing else. Only the Church — 
the company of all those who acknowledge God. 


TWO MYSTICS 


259 


If you inquire you will find that this wonderful and 
beautiful miracle — the answer to many prayers — has 
only touched the servants of God. The godless are 
untouched. They cannot understand it. But all 
those souls who have been conscious of God, however 
dimly, however vaguely, however strugglingly — 
they are assured to-day that God exists, and they 
will save the world.” 

I told him some of my experiences, which con- 
firmed his point of view — his term “ the Church ” 
covering, as it ought to do, the vast multitude of 
those who serve God whatever their creeds may be. 

He said to me : “I must tell you one of my 
experiences. I woke this morning before six o’clock 
with just such a feeling concerning God as Brother 
Laurence describes in his Practise of the Presence of 
God . I had the happy feeling of a boy. I felt 
extraordinarily young. I was simply energy in- 
carnate. I rose at once, determined to begin there 
and then a work which has been for some time 
nestling at my heart. I went off as soon as possible 
to the Archbishop. I found him in a frame of mind 
very like my own. He was quite enthusiastic and 
joyous, and we both ascribed our feelings to the 
beautiful weather. Then I told him why I had come. 
I came to propose that the Anglican Church should 
reform its finanoes. I can’t bear to think of the 


260 


TWO MYSTICS 


existence of rich clergymen when there are poor 
clergymen struggling in poverty. It makes our 
appeal to the cold, heartless, and cynical world — 
that is to say, to the world we must not ignore, but 
the very world it is our business to save — it makes 
our appeal to that world weak and without the 
force of reality. I don’t want to see clergymen rich, 
1 want to see them poor. But I simply cannot bear 
the inequalities which exist now. And so I spoke 
bumingly to the Archbishop. And it was very 
amusing to see how the dear man struggled in vain 
to acquire his natural non-commital look of the 
statesman, his customary manner of balancing and 
weighing every proposition put before him. He 
simply could not do it ! He laughed himself, and 
rubbed his hands — he was just like a delightful 
boy ! — and said that the thing must be done, and 
be done at once. 4 I feel this morning,’ he said, 4 not 
like the last of the Archbishops, but like the first 
of the Apostles.’ He was really overflowing with 
energy. And, strangely enough, three other men 
came with very similar propositions,, and when we 
sat down to breakfast, the Archbishop pointed to 
the silver dishes, and said with a most charming 
gaiety, 4 Do any of you know the story of Saint 
Richard, Bishop of Chichester in the middle of the 
thirteenth century ? His brother said to him one 


TWO MYSTICS 


261 


day, You give away more than your income. Then, 
replied Richard, sell my silver ; it will never do for 
me to drink out of silver cups while our Lord is 
suffering in His poor ; our fathers drank heartily out 
of common crockery, and so can I ; sell the plate ! 
That is how I feel this morning,’ he cried, rubbing 
his hands, ‘ I feel that I want to get the whole 
Church into the streets of life and into the homes of 
men.’ It was splendid to hear him. Well, we talked 
till noon, and as we talked men kept coming with 
news of the Revival manifesting itself everywhere, 
and before we had parted we were almost a Church 
Congress, and we had determined on a course of 
action. We are going to reform the Church root and 
branch. Instead of inequalities, we shall have all 
things in common. Our beautiful country rectories 
are to be turned into nursing-homes and hostels and 
sanctuaries. Our clergy are not to be stationary — 
this man in poverty, that man in wealth ; this man 
in a slum, that man in a village — no, they are to be 
always on the move. We shall have a brigade of the 
best preachers continually sweeping the country 
from end to end ; a brigade of missionaries con- 
tinually organising enthusiasm in every parish ; a 
brigade of holy women moving through every city 
administering the charities of the Church. And 
those men and women who do hold stations, are to 


262 


TWO MYSTICS 


hold them only for two or three years. There will 
be a constant interchange of the urban and rural 
clergy. No man will be left to break his heart in 
the slums, and no man will be left to grow torpid in 
the villages. We shall have less tennis and garden- 
parties in the shires, and less heart-breaking and 
despair in the industrial quarters. And there is to 
be a brigade of clergy whose sole work will be to 
attack evil — our great fighting legion. We are not 
only going to call the righteous, we are not only going 
to save sinners ; we are going to make war on the 
devil and all his angels. In every town all over 
England, our fighting legion will attack those 
breeders of iniquity who are at present unchallenged. 
Yes, we intend to howl indecent plays off the stage 
and indecent exhibitions out of cinematograph 
theatres, to make bonfires of indecent books and 
newspapers, to tear indecent placards off the 
hoardings, to denounce sweaters by name, to stop 
every drunkard and every harlot on the street, to 
make war on the bookmaker, to prosecute every 
publican who permits drunkenness on his premises, 
and to expose at whatever cost in the law courts 
avery swindler of every kind, whether he be the 
advertiser of a worthless patent medicine or a 
fraudulent company-promoter. In a word, the 
Church is awake and on the march. The Anglican 


TWO MYSTICS 


263 


branch of the Church, at any rate, is taking the field 
and I believe we shall have the whole Church of 
Christ on our side. We intend to cleanse England, 
to cleanse her from head to foot.” 

“ Of course I am glad to hear what you tell me,” 
I said to him ; “ but I am rather surprised to find 
you so interested in this activity. It does not seem 
your metier. Do you know why I wanted to come 
and see you this morning ? ” 

He smiled. “ I can guess. Well, I do not think 
I have lost my affection for mysticism. In this 
Revival — in the new look in the faces of my brother 
clergy — I am conscious of mysticism. It seems to 
me that the mystic sees deeper into the mysteries 
of God when he is looking for them among men 
instead of in books. Why, this great vast city of 
London seems to me now, every stone of it, every 
light in it, every tree and flower of it, every man and 
woman and child breathing its strange air, an open 
book of the spiritual life.” 

“ I wanted to ask you a question,” I said. 

“ Did I anticipate this Revival or can I explain 
it ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

He looked at me, his pale face shining in the glow 
of the lamps, his light-coloured eyes smiling with 
spiritual fire. “ I did not anticipate the miracle, 


264 


TWO MYSTICS 


but I think I can explain it,” he said slowly. “ It 
means that we were a perishing nation, a nation 
perishing in our sleep, and that God has mercifully 
visited and redeemed His people. As God breathed 
into the nostrils of Adam and he became a living 
soul, so has He breathed now into His Church and 
it too has become a living soul.” He regarded me 
silently for a moment. “ I think you understand,” 
he added. “I see that you understand. We were 
literally a perishing nation. It was not God’s Will 
that we should perish. To save us has come another 
Pentecost.” 

With that he left me. 

It was now the hour when the theatres empty and 
when the restaurants are crowded with supper- 
parties. Instead of turning off into Hertford Street, 
I continued along Piccadilly, and came to the 
Circus, which was just beginning to fill with people. 
I crossed to the refuge where the flower-sellers sit 
by day with their baskets of button-holes beside 
the fountain, and studied the scene that surrounded 
me on every side. There were as many vehicles as 
ever crossing and re-crossing the open space that 
was dazzled with fight. The processions of people 
on every pavement were as dense as ever. The 
great entrances to restaurants and supper-rooms 
were like the openings of enchanted caves. Motor- 


TWO MYSTICS 


265 


buses drew up at the kerb’s edge and were 
instantly besieged by crowds of people. Taxi-cabs 
passed in a continuous line. Carriages and expensive 
motor-cars glided away into the night. The noise 
of the great city going homeward filled the moonlit 
air. 

It was the same London, and yet a different Lon- 
don. There was a happiness in the faces of the 
people I had never seen there before, a spirit of 
kindness among those dense crowds which was new 
to me. And everywhere I looked, whether on the 
pavements or into the interiors of vehicles passing 
before me, I observed an entire and complete absence 
of the vicious element. 

As I stood on my refuge, I noticed a party of 
people entering one of the restaurants. They 
attracted my attention by reason of their strange and 
incongruous appearance. Among them were men 
and women of fashion, but the greater number con- 
sisted of working-people. They were getting out of 
several taxi-cabs and stood in quite a small crowd 
at the entrance to the restaurant, laughing and 
talking together in the best of humours. 

I crossed the road and followed them into the 
supper-room. They were taking their seats at the 
large centre table which was beautifully decorated 
with flowers. I heard them talking about the 


266 


TWO MYSTICS 


performance they had witnessed at a music-hall. 
The workmen were looking about them wide-eyed at 
the luxury of their surroundings ; the women were 
fingering their bonnet-strings and glancing at the 
other people in the large room. 

The waiter who attended to me said that several 
similar parties were being given in the other rooms. 
“ It’s a new craze ! ” he said, with a cynical smile. 
“ Ladies and gentlemen have taken parties of poor 
people to the theatres, and they bring them on here for 
a final treat. I do not think it will last very long.” 

I was both amused and interested by the scene. 
These workpeople brought an air of reality into the 
restaurant. Food seemed to be important. Their 
faces, marked with that stern realism which comes 
to those who have to struggle with hardships, made 
an interesting contrast with the softer, stupider, and 
more blase faces of the habitual customers. And in 
some way it seemed to me that the gilding and the 
paintings, the fine carpets and the expensive 
decorations of the place, did not jar, but had 
meaning and value. I thought of feudal tines when 
the whole nation in all its classes met at the supper- 
tables of the great lords. It seemed to me that 
social life ought to be as dignified and splendid as 
possible. 

One of the workmen was evidently a humorist ; 


TWO MYSTICS 


267 


he talked like Sancho Panza as he ate, and what he 
said made all the other guests laugh very heartily. 
He told stories to which the ladies and gentlemen of 
the party listened with delight. He was evidently a 
droll, warm-hearted person. 

A stranger came and sat at the opposite side of my 
table. He made no apology for his intrusion ; rather 
he surveyed me with the look of annoyance which an 
old customer bestows upon one who has usurped 
his customary place. He was tall, dark, saturnine. 
The biliousness of his complexion was deepened 
by the blackness of his hair and moustache, and by 
the darkness of his large eyes. It was a singularly 
ill-favoured countenance. 

He ordered his supper in a peremptory manner, 
and then, glancing for a moment with angry con- 
tempt at the party in the centre of the room, opened 
the evening paper which he had brought with him 
and began to read. 

I thought to myself, “ Here is a man who might 
pass very well for the Devil himself. He would 
make a character in a book. One could make 
something of his sudden and silent entrance into 
this place, and the black look which he cast at those 
people over there.” 

He remained buried in the paper till the waiter 
appeared with his supper. 


268 


TWO MYSTICS 


I was on the point of getting up to go, when he 
addressed me. “I knew this thing was going to 
happen,” he said abruptly, fixing his eyes upon me. 
Then he demanded, “ Did you expect it ? ” 

Before I could think what I was saying, I replied, 
“ I expected something miraculous to happen this 
year, but I did not foresee such a revolution.” 

“I knew everything,” he replied, lifting his glass. 
“ How did you know ? ” I asked. 

“ I am an occultist,” he said brusquely. 

For a moment we were silent. He then stooped 
down and picked up the paper which he had dropped 
on the floor. “ The most interesting thing about 
this revolution, as you call it, is the action of the 
great landowners,” he said, folding back a page. 
“ All that business over there ” — he nodded to the 
centre table — “ is merely sentimental. It will do 
more harm than good, and it will not last. But 
there is reason in what the landowners are about. 
I foretold such a policy two years ago.” 

“ You mean the pulling down of slum houses ? ” 
“ Not in the least. I regard that as silly. No ; 
I refer to the action of those landlords who intend 
to develop their country estates as a shopkeeper or 
a merchant develops his business in a city. I see that 
more than twenty landlords have set about this 
work to-day. Cottages are to be built ; co-operative 


TWO MYSTICS 


269 


stores are to be erected ; pasture is to be ploughed 
up into market-gardens. This means that the 
exodus from the country will stop. It means that 
later on there will be an exodus from the towns. 
And that is the only thing that matters. The Duke 
of Derbyshire says, ‘ I intend that my villages shall 
offer greater happiness to rational men than any 
town in the world. They will have theatres for 
folk-plays, gymnasiums, swimming-baths, cricket 
grounds, and skating-rinks. Instead of taverns and 
ale-houses I shall provide restaurants in the woods, 
where people may eat as well as drink, where they 
may listen to music, and, if they choose, picnic 
under the trees. I shall form regiments of the young 
men and teach them shooting, scouting, and 
marching. The girls will be instructed in cooking 
and needlework. My sons will go to Canada, 
Australia, and Rhodesia with those who wish to 
emigrate, and will form similar villages in those 
countries, carrying on the English tradition. My 
daughters will form glee societies and teach dancing 
and acting to the villagers. We shall have our own 
doctors attached to the estate. Everyone will be 
taught the science of human life. Nurseries and 
play-gardens will be provided for children. Exist- 
ence will be organised. I have already given orders 
to put a hundred acres of my land under glass, I 


270 


TWO MYSTICS 


am converting a thousand acres into market-gardens. 
I intend to start village industries so that we may 
be entirely self-supporting. At the end of five years 
I shall make arrangements for the entire estate to be 
administered on the principles of Co-Partnership.’ ” 

He put down the paper, and turned to his supper 
again. “ That is common sense,” he said. “ Not 
one word about God ! It will save the country.” 

“You set no store by the religious feeling which 
is at work ? ” I asked him. 

“ The greatest mistake in the world,” he said, “ is 
to interfere with the punishments which fall upon 
miserable creatures. You, I think, are something 
of an occultist, too, and therefore you must know 
that these punishments are beneficent. The folly 
of Christianity, and its danger, is the spirit of 
philanthropy it engenders in the souls of irrational 
zealots. Christianity attempts to perpetuate life, 
whether it is good life or bad life ; it attempts, also, 
to avert the chastisement which overtakes the 
ignorant and vile ; it interferes with the scheme of 
things. The most dangerous word in the world is 
the word Love. I would wipe it out of existence.” 

I smiled. “ Why not wipe out existence, that 
would be quicker ? ” 

He studied me with a fixed and measuring judg- 
ment. “ Don’t you know that the way of wisdom 


TWO MYSTICS 


271 


is to eradicate the desire for individual existence, 
and to extirpate the longing for personal identity ? ” 
“ No, I don’t know that.” 

“ You have not studied Eastern Philosophy ? ” 

“ Pardon me, I have studied it in the East.” 

His eyes blinked. He was taken aback. I waited 
for him to speak. “ They have blundered out 
there,” he said, after drinking some wine, “ but the 
fakirs and the gurus know the truth. You must 
not judge a religion by the dregs of the people. 
The highest wisdom lies in destroying within one’s 
self the desire for personal existence, in fact all 
desire of any kind whatsoever. No man is happy 
until he has ceased to care whether he is happy or 
miserable. No man is good until he does not know 
whether he is good or bad. And no man is deserving 
of Nirvana until he has ceased to desire existence.” 

“ I know very well that philosophy of pessimism,” 
I replied ; “ and I have seen its fruits. I have seen 
temples which are cesspools of iniquity. I have 
seen a sacred literature which is a veritable Bedlam of 
obscenity. And everywhere in the country of that 
religion I have seen the poor shamefully ill-treated, 
the weak trodden under foot, the suffering and the 
sick unvisited by doctor or nurse, the wounded or 
starving animal left to die in its misery — the whole 
round of life ignorant, dirty, and afflicted. That 


272 


TWO MYSTICS 


Eastern Philosophy has some charming sentiments 
here and there — particularly in European trans- 
lations — but its fruit is the fruit of he]!.” 

He stared at me with anger and smouldering fury. 
“ Are you a Christian ? ” he asked contemptuously. 

I bowed my head. 

Then he leaned across the table, and very quickly, 
and with no little eloquence, poured out such a 
violent attack upon the principles of Christianity as 
made me think him to be mad. I do not know 
when I ever heard intellectual hate so ring and 
vibrate in a man’s voice. 

When he had made an end, I said to him : “ But 
what remains ? ” 

“ A charnel-house of superstitions and duperies ! ” 
he answered, with a snort. 

“ Nothing else ? ” 

“ Nothing at all.” 

“ Is the Character of Christ nothing ? ” 

“ The priests have destroyed it.” 

“ Why,” I said to him, “ don’t you know that in 
the East the Character of Christ is already conquer- 
ing the millions of Hinduism ? ” 

“ Pooh ! ” he ejaculated wrathfully. “ Bice 
Christians ! Pariahs and Outcasts ! Any fool can 
buy as many as he chooses.” 

“ I am not speaking of converts. I am speaking 


TWO MYSTICS 


273 


of Hindus. Don’t you know — has nobody told 
you — that the Hindus themselves are now building 
hospitals for the sick, that they are visiting the poor, 
that they are befriending the casteless, that they 
are cultivating the spirit of love and kindness which 
you denounce ? The Churches have not won the 
peoples of Hinduism. But from the Churches those 
peoples have assimilated the Christian ethic. In 
other words, the Character of Christ, which has 
conquered the West, is now conquering the East. 
Hinduism retains its name, but the spirit is the 
Spirit of Christ.” 

He folded up his newspaper, and called for his 
bill. , “ Let me beg you,” he said, “ to read Nietz- 
sche.” 

“ I would ask you one question,” I said. “ Are 
you untouched in any way by the miracle which has 
occurred to-day ? Are you, I mean, utterly un- 
conscious that a miracle has happened ? ” 

“ I have said that I foretold it.” 

“ But you do not consider yourself its cause ? ” 

“ I did not say that I considered myself its 
cause.” 

“ Whence is it ? Can you say ? ” 

He lifted his eyebrows and gazed over my head 
“ It proceeds,” he said, “from the Mahatmas in its 
highest manifestations. Its lower manifestations — 

T 


274 TWO MYSTICS 

this love and charity — are the perversions of the 
demons.” 

“ That satisfies you ? ” 

“ That satisfies me.” 

“ Then I will tell you something that may help 
to give you light. This miracle is simply the con- 
viction in the souls of good men and good women 
that the God of Love revealed by Christ is the 
Ultimate Reality. They know now what hitherto 
they have only endeavoured to believe. Prove to 
them that there is no God, and this miracle will so 
utterly cease that not all the Mahatmas in the world 
will be able to restore its impulse. The miracle is 
knowledge of that God in Whom standeth our eternal 
life . It belongs to God. Without God it could not 
be. Have you thought,” I asked earnestly, “ what 
it would mean to you if you believed in a God of 
Love ? Have you ever contemplated that thought ? 
Is there no sense of lack and incompleteness in 
yourself, no disharmony, no feeling of disquiet and 
unrest ? Are you at unity with yourself ? — at home 
in the universe ? ” 

He surveyed me with a sudden wildness of mis- 
giving. He rose from his chair hastily. Then he 
stopped and considered. 

“ I believed once in such a God,” he replied slowly 
and unwillingly, “ but I lost my faith.” 


TWO MYSTICS 


275 


“ Forgive me,” I said, “ but it is impossible to 
lose faith in God. Faith is eternal. Men only lose 
faith in dogmas concerning God.” 

He regarded me with a brooding sorrow. 4 4 Men 
can lose faith in God,” he said darkly, 44 even the 
most utter faith.” 

44 How can they lose such faith ? ” I asked. 

44 By sin,” he answered, as though the words were 
tom from him. 

And before I could say another word, before I 
could call to him that he had not lost his faith, that 
he was indeed tormented by the conviction of God’s 
existence, he passed quickly between the tables and 
out of the room. 

A sound of loud triumphant music came suddenly 
from the outer world. I was near the door. Before 
I had reached the street half the people in the 
restaurant and many of the waiters were pressing 
behind me. I was driven forward, borne through 
the crowds on the pavement and carried right into the 
ranks of an enormous host marching through the 
midnight streets. Just ahead of me went a numerous 
band playing 44 Onward, Christian Soldiers ! ” 
Behind them followed a host of clergymen, among 
whom I noticed the Bishop of Brompton, Dr. Garth, 
and several well-known ministers, both Anglican 
and Nonconformist. After these prominent clergy 


270 


TWO MYSTICS 


marched the vast general host, into whose ranks I 
had been borne by the pressure of the crowd. I 
looked about me as well as I could, and saw that 
for the most part this army of London represented 
the young men of the great city. The man next to 
me said that he belonged to an Athletic Association 
attached to a Wesleyan Mission. He told me that 
they had cleared that night the streets and music- 
halls of London of their ancient shame. The man 
on my other side, a member of the Church of Eng- 
land Men’s Society, said that he had worked with 
thousands of others to clear the streets of tramps 
and to rescue children. No less than six brass 
bands were following behind us, they said ; the 
procession was estimated to be four miles in length ; 
the objective was St. Paul’s Cathedral. “It’s a 
National Thanksgiving ! ” cried the Athlete ; “a 
spontaneous Thanksgiving for the Day that is going 
to save England.” 

We arrived at St. Paul’s Cathedral a minute or 
two before the clock struck twelve. The Bishop of 
London, surrounded by clergy, stood on the topmost 
step in the shadow of the great doorway. Below 
him was massed the first band. Behind the band 
flowed an immense multitude as far as eye could see 
— an ocean of souls, each one conscious of God in 
the solitude of its isolation. The sight of all those 


TWO MYSTICS 


277 


young vigorous clean-limbed, pure-minded, and 
upright men gathered together in the gloom of great 
warehouses and facing towards the dark mass of the 
Cathedral, the thought of that innumerable ocean 
of individual souls filled with enthusiasm for God 
and His Righteousness, stirred in me a feeling of 
exultation that was half patriotic and half religious. 
It was like the full glad strength of a great and 
mighty nation — a nation of which a righteous man 
might be proud — mustering at the trumpet of God. 
One was literally thrilled by the spectacle. Nothing 
I have ever seen so moved me with a sense of the 
strength and power of Holiness. 

The band played “ O God, our help in ages past.” 
Midnight struck as thousands of voices filled the air 
with that noble hymn. Then the Bishop, with 
lifted hand, led the people in “ Our Father.” The 
thunder of the voices, like volley-fire, passed from 
clause to clause, and ceased suddenly upon the 
Amen. In a deep stillness the Bishop pronounced 
the Blessing. A moment after the people had said 
Amen, the band struck up the National Anthem, 
and once more the air was filled with the mighty 
sound of men’s voices singing to God. It seemed to 
me that England might now justly call herself 
Christian England. . . . 

I was nearing Hertford Street on my way home 


278 


TWO MYSTICS 


when I saw, twenty yards in front of me and moving 
rapidly in my direction, the man I had encountered 
in the restaurant. A poor woman with a child in 
her arms came towards him out of a doorway, 
begging. He passed her, brushed past her, but 
suddenly checked and turned round. I saw him 
give her money, and as I passed him he was saying, 
“ I am sorry for you, I am sorry for your child ; 
and if you are dishonest and your poverty is a trick 
I am still more sorry for you.” 

He crossed the road, without seeing me, and 
hurried into the darkness. 

That was the last incident I witnessed on the day 
that changed the world. 


CHAPTER XXI 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 

T HAVE told the reader that once again I was 
destined to see the Vision of the Child. It does 
not fall within the province of this book to narrate 
that experience, but I cannot pass to the final re- 
marks which compose the present chapter and bring 
my personal chronicle to an end, without at least 
some indication of the nature and the consequences 
of that mysterious appearance. I saw the Child three 
months after the day of the Visitation. The Vision 
presented itself in the drawing-room of a London 
house filled with people. By this phenomenon I 
was led to make acquaintance with the lady who is 
now my wife. Through my wife I have come to the 
work — a work for international peace — which now 
engages all my energy. The child born to us a 
month ago seems to me like the twin-soul of the 
babe who died. 

“ Wonder is the basis of Worship : the reign of 
279 


280 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


wonder is perennial, indestructible in Man ; only at 
certain stages it is, for some short season, a reign in 
partibus infidelium ” I do not presume to explain 
the mystery of the Visitation. More congenial js it 
to my temperament and my spiritual nature to lose 
myself without question or curiosity in the abyss of 
wonder which at all times and in all places surrounds 
the conscious soul and inspires its worship. Rut 
since so many men have set out to explain the 
Visitation on rationalistic grounds, and since my 
book is written to prove the reasonableness of 
supposing a divine genesis for this mystery, I 
would venture a few valedictory remarks on the 
character and necessity of the miracle. 

In a certain sense the Visitation may indeed be 
regarded as no miracle at all. One may aver that 
at many points it is analogous to the very common 
human experience of awaking only at the death of 
some person dear to us in a thousand ways to the 
full beauty and the extreme lovableness of his 
nature. Very true, I think, are those words which 
I have set at the beginning of my chronicle : “ The 
imagination of most men lags behind their know- 
ledge, and it is often long before the real meaning 
dawns upon them of what they think they know, 
and in a sense do know.” The history of human 
evolution is an account of the soul’s gradual and 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


281 


difficult awakening from the drowsiness of slumber. 
Man has seen always the same world, but from age 
to age he has seen it with clearer eyes. From the 
first hours when our shadowy ancestors looked with, 
the eyes of animals upon a territory still tortured 
with the birthmarks of Chaos and Anarchy, down to 
the beginning of the twentieth century after Christ 
when men spoke to each other across the waste of 
waters without visible means of communication — 
how different, how vastly different, have been the 
images impressed upon the retina of the human eye. 
The same world presented itself to the gaze of the 
first man as now presents itself to the astronomer 
and the geologist; and the centuries dividing them 
have passed in a gradual awakening from stupor, a 
gradual appreciation of truth, a gradual realisation 
of reality. 

“It is often long before the real meaning dawns 
upon them of what they think they know, and in a 
sense do know.” The profound truth of this remark 
applies to the spiritual as well as the physical world. 
Men have used the word “God” from the beginning 
of time; they have used it racially, tribally, uni- 
versally; they have exalted it and degraded it; 
they have meant by it a hundred different con- 
tradictory things. Even when the Son of Man 
gave to that term a meaning so august, beautiful, 


282 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


and adorable that a new era at once began for 
humanity, there have been hosts of men professing 
to follow in His steps who have employed the 
Name of God to do the work of the Devil. One can 
hardly read old sermons without impatience. The 
Inquisitors of Spain believed in God. The Calvinists 
believed in God. The hooligan Orangemen believe 
in God. 

The real meaning of this majestic word has been 
stealing upon the consciousness of humanity from 
the dawn of time. In our own day, helped by the 
sublime revelations of pure science, the meaning of 
that word has broadened and extended in an 
understanding enlarged by the work of reason to 
comprehend its wonder. Men thought they knew 
there was a God, and in a sense they did know it, but 
their imagination lagged behind this knowledge. 
They had not visualised God. They had not 
apprehended the enormous significance of God’s 
existence. They had not imagined the infinite 
consequences involved in the certainty of the truth 
of God’s existence. 

Men may say, if they will, that no miracle has 
occurred ; that with an enlarged understanding we 
are now better able to entertain the conception of a 
God ; and that imagination, dazzled and staggered 
by the thought of a real and actual God, has pro- 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


283 


duced the change in the world which is now apparent 
to everybody. They may contend that the fact of 
so many people coming simultaneously to a full 
realisation of the significance for humanity of God’s 
existence is merely coincidence. 

I shall not quarrel with them. 

The thought I would leave with the reader has 
nothing to do with my own experience. I have 
told what happened to me because I felt it my duty 
to do so. Whether those who read my narrative 
believe or not, is of no serious account either to me 
or to themselves. But it is, I think, most important 
that those who five now in a world conscious of 
God, in a world ruled by the conviction of immor- 
tality, in a world which has realised that the word 
love involves infinite consequences , should at least 
honestly confront the thought of what threatened 
civilisation before this awakening occurred. 

There is no doubt that history at the time of the 
Visitation was at one of those crises which culminate 
either in a reversion to savagery or in a fresh and 
violent impulse towards salvation. Not only were 
the foremost nations of mankind threatened with 
bankruptcy merely by maintaining a state of peace 
more costly than war, and not only was there 
imminent peril for European culture and the Chris- 
tian religion in the awakening of Eastern nations 


:84 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


who watched our quarrels with coyetous eyes, but 
in the individual soul of the European there was 
an ennui, a fatigue, a boredom, an indifference to 
seriousness, a contempt for reverence and wonder, 
which was infinitely more perilous than the jealous 
enmity of hostile savages or semi-savages. 

One looks back upon the literature of that period 
with consternation. Adultery was the theme of 
most novels and most plays. One looks back upon 
the newspapers with amazement. Crime was the 
main interest, hysterics the prevailing mood. One 
looks back upon the politics of that time with 
alarm and terror. The nation was quarrelling 
furiously, like so many hungry wolves, over the 
barest decencies of life. 

When it is remembered that certain leaders of the 
Conservative Party fomented rebellion among the 
most ignorant and fanatical people of Ireland, and 
at a time when the underworld of labour was talking 
fiercely of violence and rebellion, when one remem- 
bers this, I think there can be no doubt that society 
was in a dire peril. And with this, too, it must be 
borne in mind that a veritable madness for violence 
had manifested itself among women, so that such 
frightful crimes as arson were actually attempted 
and apparently countenanced by ladies of influence. 
That there was no outburst of popular indignation 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


285 


at these hideous and incredible crimes of frenzied 
women is another proof, surely, of the national 
peril. 

Furthermore, one must steadily contemplate the 
extraordinary, the now almost unthinkable relations 
which existed between the various classes of the 
community. It may be said that the three great 
classes of the community lived without contact. 
The rich inhabited one world : the middle-class 
inhabited another world : the hand-labourers in- 
habited another world still. Rich men lived in the 
most sumptuous fashion when others were starving 
for want of work. Landowners, possessing thousands 
of acres of English country, used their estates chiefly 
for amusement, and made no effort whatever to 
develop their responsibilities. Middle-class people 
amassed enormous fortunes by exploiting the 
labour of the poor. Titles were literally to be 
purchased at the hands of either political party. 
Aristocracy, asking no questions, opened its doors to 
plutocracy, however vulgar and dishonest. Such 
was the condition of things, as one writer said, that 
when the newspapers announced the visit of the 
King to a wealthy grocer no one was surprised in 
the very least, while society’s breath would have 
been taken away by a royal visit to some poor 
scholar or some illustrious savant. 


286 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


Money, in fact, was the one god of that period. 
The worship of Mammon was open, frank, and 
thorough. Democracy, justly waking to the miseries 
of its environment and to the injustice of its 
reward, considered that all its problems would be 
solved by more money. In Mr. Lloyd George they 
found a statesman who combined imagination with 
a singular acuteness of intellect. Mr. Lloyd George, 
setting out to redress the wrongs of democracy, 
found his way challenged and the first steps of his 
progress impeded by the whole army of privilege. 
Stung by the vulgar taunts levelled at him on 
account of his humble origin, and really indignant 
at the appalling selfishness revealed by those who 
enjoyed the comforts and luxuries of enormous 
wealth in an age of squalor and wretchedness, this 
statesman abandoned appeal and persuasion for 
challenge, denunciation, and scornful threats. He 
had accomplished more for democracy in a few years 
than both parties had brought into being over the 
whole history of democratic government ; but there 
is little doubt that he was in grave danger at the 
moment of the Visitation of becoming, if not a 
firebrand, at least one of those dangerous men who 
believe that politics can solve problems which be- 
long to the soul. Had the Conservative Party co- 
operated with him from the first to get rid of things 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


287 


which palpably disgraced a civilised country and 
which were utterly shameful in a country professing 
to be Christian, there is little doubt, I think, that 
he would have avoided a violent rhetoric. But 
lack of sympathy on the part of the rich, the most 
unscrupulous and mendacious tactics on the part 
of certain disreputable Conservative newspapers, 
these things undoubtedly operated to injure the 
balance of that able mind, and to render him for 
those who looked ahead something of a national 
danger. 

One can see clearly enough now that if men at 
that time had even faintly believed in God the 
movement of democracy into the sunshine, the 
evolution of England into an equipped and scientific 
state, would have been accomplished without shock 
or travail. But it is quite plain that men did not 
believe in God. Their problems, indeed, arose only 
from that lack of faith. The spirit of unrest which 
everywhere manifested itself came from the loss of 
the thought of God, the blindness of their eyes to 
the long perspective of eternity. The bitterness of 
political disputation, the violence of political 
propaganda, the extreme luxury of the very rich, 
the absolute destitution of the very poor, the ugliness, 
the barrenness, the degradation of industrial pros- 
perity, and the insufferable insolence of literature’s 


288 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


contemptuous attitude towards the eternal issues 
of existence — all these things marked the period 
as an age in which the people had forgotten God and 
were determined to do without Him. 

George Sand truly said, and now we can all realise 
it, that the great word of the New Testament is 
Love. “ The word is a great one,” she said, “ because 
it involves infinite consequences. To love means to 
help one another, to have joint aspirations, to act 
in concert, to labour for the same end, to develop 
to its ideal consummation the fraternal instinct, 
thanks to which mankind have brought the earth 
under their dominion. Every time that he has been 
false to this instinct, which is his law of fife, his 
natural destiny, man has seen his temples crumble, 
his societies dissolve, his intellectual sense go wrong, 
his moral sense die out. The future is founded on 
love.” 

Who can doubt it now ? 

We look back on a discordant, godless world 
tearing itself to pieces and foaming at the mouth in 
its denial of brotherhood, we see the face of that 
world marked by the fury and blackness of anger, 
its feet sliding from under it on the slippery places of 
hateful conflict, its body bending and breaking under 
the strain of its own determination to five without 
God ; and then we turn to this new world already 


WAS IT A MIRACLE? 


289 


shining with love, dignified with reverence, and 
tranquil with the vision of Eternity — this new 
world in which the fraternal instinct is the supreme 
law of man’s life, in which men rejoice to bear one 
another’s burdens, in which no little child is left to 
perish in sin and misery, in which art and literature 
rise once more into the empyrean of divine imagina- 
tion, from which ugliness is banished as well as want 
and crime, in which beauty is felt to be a passion 
and expectation of heaven, the one satisfying thirst 
of the soul — we look from the old world upon this 
new world which our children now happily inhabit 
with no memory of another, and surely we must 
bow ourselves with grateful thanksgiving and 
acknowledge with reverent conviction that, whether 
by miracle or no miracle, God has indeed visited 
and redeemed His people. 

It is said of a French philosopher that the death 
of a lifelong friend humanised him for one day. For 
one day those who believed in God lived as if their 
belief was true. And the result of that one day 
changed the face of the whole world 



























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